Half Breeds
by ShadowGrace
Summary: Whitney and Zander Souza are on the run. Their parents, the elusive Chloe and Derek Souza, have gone missing, and their kids are determined to find them. But the new doctor is determined to put them in his experiments. With the some help from new and old friends, Whitney and Zander travel the length of the East Coast to save their parents. Told in multiple POVS. Rated T.
1. Missing

**Since we're only allowed to put a certain amount on our descriptions, here is the full summary; versus the shortened one (darn those number quotas.)**

**Full Summary:**** Running for your life sucks. Whitney Souza and her brother, Zander, are finding that out the not-so-fun way. Everything was fine until Whitney came home to find her house devoid of her parents. And it's not like they just went away to the grocery store. They are **_**gone**_**, and the blood in the living room carpet doesn't make her feel much better. Her parents drilled it into her what she was supposed to do at a time like this. She just never expected that it would've come. Now she and Zander are running for their lives, from the people that failed to capture her parents twenty-five years ago. She has to figure out who to trust and where to go to find her parents, because she's not giving up on them. The only problem? She's not sure they'll even survive.**

**This is my THIRD story for the Darkest Powers. Please do go check up on my other two, **_**After the End**_** and **_**The Hidden Truth**_**.**

**This story is rated T because the majority of the characters are sixteen and older, and there will be "cartoon" violence (combat, superpowers, a little blood and gore, etc.)**

**** Some of these characters are of my own creation, some of them belong to the author of the Darkest Powers Series, Kelley Armstrong.**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong. Please enjoy. (:**

_Half-Breeds_

_1: Missing_

Whitney

Mom would be mad. I didn't know how I was supposed to tell her that I almost revived the teacher's pet hamster by accident. That definitely wouldn't have been pretty, not with the little fur-covered body already cold, sitting in the shoe box loving adorned with tissue paper and little stickers. Ms. Willoughby was one of those crazy cat ladies. Except she was allergic to cats, so she had an array of chattering hamsters that lined the counters in her classroom. Creepy, and a little bit obnoxious to Jaime, my best friend who was allergic to dander. There was no talking Ms. Willoughby out of her growing hamster collection, so Jaime just sat as far away from them as she could. If she wasn't my best friend, I would've been fed up with her sniffling a long time ago.

And to make matters worse, Zander thought that it was hilarious. I wanted to smack him upside the head as he sat cackling in the passenger seat of my little car, but I was too focused on the road. Dad had been an army sergeant when it came to teaching me to drive a car. Mom had always told him that I needed the freedom, which was something that dad didn't seem to know much about. Mom had always given me those pleading eyes right before I got into it with my father. I knew the repercussions of getting into an argument with a werewolf, and one that was as big and strong as my dad, to boot. Zander wasn't even close to that sort of strength.

I bit down on my lip as I turned into the driveway of our cottage-like home. It was big enough that Zander and I had one half of the house while my parents had the other. Good thing, too, because Zander liked to play his annoyingly loud drum set whenever he could, and you could barely hear it on the other side of the house. I, though, was subject to listening to every symbol while trying to talk on the phone or do my homework.

I threw the car into park and stepped out. Zander already had his backpack slung over his shoulder, still laughing at the idea of a hamster pulling itself on small, stiff feet across the desktop, when he froze. I did, too. Both of us were what I considered half-breeds, two species that had never really been mixed before, not to my knowledge. Both of us had a little bit of mom's necromancer powers and a smidge of dad's werewolf, but I tended to be more like my mom while Zander was more like dad. Dad theorized that it had to do with our genders. But I didn't really pay attention to it. All I knew was that I didn't have those convulsions or whatever, and my senses were nowhere near the magnitude of my father's, or even Zander's.

I leaned against the car, watching Zander as he lifted his head a little bit, taking a deep breath. I could feel the wind blowing in my face, whipping my long, black hair around my face. I brushed it out of my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to pick up on what Zander smelled. While his senses were closer to my dad's, I could still pick up things that my mom couldn't. I closed my eyes, trying to be dependent only on my sense of smell. Another deep breath revealed what I thought was someone new. Someone that wasn't supposed to be around here.

Mom smelled like her floral perfume. Dad smelled like half a stick of deodorant. Zander tended to smell like Axe, and I thought that I had a scent that resembled my citrus body wash. Zander had once told me that the different scents went deeper than that, but that was all I could smell.

I looked at my brother across the top of the car. His eyes, blue, like our mom's, were wide as we both stared at the doorway. It was closed, but as I got closer, I could see that the wood around the knob was splintered. My heart leapt in my throat. Zander was immediately at my side, tapping into his werewolf speed. We both stood on the doorstep, our hearts pounding in our chests.

"Zander," I whispered.

He glanced at me, his eyes narrowed on the window right next to the door. The curtains were drawn, instead of pulled back like they always were. "Code 3?"

I nodded, biting down on my lip. I reached out and gently touched the doorknob, afraid of what I would see. Mom and Dad had taught me and Zander what to do if our lives ever came to this. I always thought that it was out of the question. Our parents had sat us down right before I turned thirteen. Zander had been twelve at the time, a little over a year younger than me. Our parents had a secret, one that they'd kept from us until they thought we were ready. They figured I was as close as I could get to the possibility of power changes, and they were right. The point was, they figured that they couldn't hide it anymore. And so I knew about my parents being experiments, mom considered "failed" and dad just another experiment, albeit the one outcast in the whole study. I heard about how they ran from the scientist group – the Edison Group – and how they'd managed to hide away from them.

And I thought we were fine, because they hadn't found my parents for over twenty years. I thought that we would be okay, and that we never would have to worry about it. Zander reached out and touched my elbow, bringing me back to the present. "Whit?" He asked, his vow low. He sounded a lot like our dad when he talked like that.

I ignored him and pushed open the door. It gave a little squeak when it opened, making both of us cringe. Someone had pulled on it hard enough to twist the hinge a little. That thought alone was scary. I handed Zander one of the umbrellas from the little container by the door and took one for myself. We split up – him going to our parents' room, me going to our half of the house. After a thorough sweep, we would meet up in the living room, which was right in front of us.

I slipped down the hallway and peered into Zander's room. It would either be impossible to hide in their or the most convenient place. His room looked like a tornado hit it, so I couldn't even be sure if anything had been moved. I figured someone could be hiding under the bed or in the closet, but you would have to make a lot of noise to get there. I checked the places anyway, ignoring the urge to hold my breath to avoid getting my brother's germs. Once his room was cleared, I checked our joint bathroom (it really does suck to share a bathroom with your brother). I even yanked back the shower curtain, umbrella raised to whack the crap out of someone.

And then I went to my room. Everything was in order, but that didn't mean that I didn't check under the bed or in the closet. I let my hand drift over my shelf of special belongings. My hand caught on a piece of paper that stuck out. It hadn't been there before. My heart thumped, trying to fight its way out of my chest as I opened the folded up page. It was a note, and it was clearly written by my father.

_Whitney and Zander, we've been compromised. I don't know how. I don't know what they want from us. This should've been over years ago. Do what we always taught you. Stick together and be safe. We love you. Mom and Dad._

I nearly choked reading the note. Dad must've slipped it into my room just before the door had been busted down. I folded it back up and tucked it into my back pocket. I scanned the game room/office, which was just as neat as it had been when I left for school. It was time to meet up with Zander in the living room.

As I crept my way back, I heard Zander call out, "Whitney?" I sped up and found him standing on the other side of the couch, looking down at the floor. His umbrella was loose in his hand. I couldn't see what he was looking at over the back of our old, worn leather couch. I hurried around it, scared of what I would see.

I never would've thought that my heart could shoot off the way it did, but within seconds it was in my throat. Zander looked a little green himself. I put a hand over my mouth as I stared at the mess on the living room floor.

Blood.

# # #

The first order of business was to get the heck out of here. Zander and I ran to our bedrooms, pulling out the duffel bags that we kept hidden in the back of our closets. I had to stuff in clothes in mine, around the shoes, first aid kits, and at least a thousand dollars in cash, hidden away in a pocket sewn in the side. Zander had an equal amount of money there, as long as he hadn't dipped into the emergency funds for something stupid.

I tucked the note from my dad in with the money, hauled the strap over my head and across my chest, and darted for my parents' room. I grabbed a few things that would remind me of them, plus a few extra blankets from the chest at the foot of their bed. I wasn't sure where we'd be going yet, but I knew we had to be prepared for anything. Dad had drilled that into me enough that I could say it in my sleep.

I nearly collided with Zander as I rushed out of their room. He was stocking up on food from the pantry. I grabbed a few apples and bananas, things that would get bad eventually but would be good for the next few days. Zander had already grabbed the few hundred dollars that had been taped into the inside of the freezer, and I had the envelope from my dad's sock drawer.

"Come on, Zander," I said sharply, pulling him away from the nearly-empty pantry. I ran into the garage and pulled the extra license plates out from underneath dad's work bench. They'd been duct taped up there for a while. They were licensed to a Ms. Andrea Potts, from Arizona. With them was a fake license for me, stating that I was twenty-one, and there was a second one for Joshua Potts. I shoved the fake ID into Zander's hands and told him to get in the car. I expertly pulled off my current license plates and shoved them into the back of the garage while Zander hooked on the new ones.

And then we were in the car, blankets and pillows and anything else shoved into the back to look like we were traveling cross country. I glanced over at Zander as he buckled his seatbelt. I rammed my foot down on the gas, tires squealing as I pulled out of the driveway and turned the car north, towards Uncle Simon's house. We were directed to go there, first, and if he was unavailable we were supposed to go to Aunt Tori's, and then Grandpa's.

Our entire family was spread out. We lived in a cozy house in western Florida. Uncle Simon lived in northern Georgia, Aunt Tori in New York, and Grandpa in Minnesota. I hoped that the few thousand dollars, plus our fake debit cards (to Andrea and Joshua Potts, of course) would be able to get us to Uncle Simon's house first.

Zander reached over and touched my arm. I threw a glance over at him as I barely stopped at the stop sign, speeding down the road towards the highway. He looked like he was panicked. That was an expression that I'd never seen cross his face before. He was stubborn, and a complete daredevil. He never doubted himself or what he decided, which is why his obvious freak out was bothering me.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. A white van was following us. It was one of those that had no windows in the back, the kind that I associated with service vans or kidnapper vans. I had a feeling that it wasn't a carpet cleaning service, like the side advertised, but someone who was much more dangerous. Also, I couldn't help but see the irony in the fact that a carpet cleaning van was following us when the blood on the living room carpet had been what tipped us off that this was real danger.

I shivered at the thought. It had seemed like a lot of blood, but after a moment it just seemed like it was more common with a head injury or a heavy cut to the arm or leg. It didn't have to be a lethal amount, especially since it had been two people that were taken, not just one. My stomach clenched when I thought about my parents, tied up and injured, stuck somewhere. Dad had told me that we weren't supposed to go looking for them unless we were told otherwise. But I'd already made a vow to myself that I was going to find my parents, and I was going to find them _alive_. If Uncle Simon didn't help, then we'd go find Aunt Tori, who had always been more laid back out of the two of them. She'd also been the one that had told be to rebel a little bit. I got along with her swimmingly.

That was probably the reason she was number two on people to go see. Still, I would keep to that part of dad's wishes.

Once again, I looked in the rearview mirror. The carpet cleaning van was still following us. Instead of turning out of the neighborhood like I would've usually done, I flipped on my blinker to turn into the older, more winding part of the neighborhood. It went with the land, so the roads were hilly and sharp, and if you didn't know them well, definitely confusing.

"What are you doing, Whitney?" Zander asked, turning in his seat to look through the back window.

"Hang on tight."

# # #

Dr. Watson

Finally. Mr. St. Cloud would be pleased, if he even managed to understand what I'd just done in his old age. They'd never been able to capture them. I'd been researching them for the last two decades, after Davidoff, the stupid fool, failed. He was too confident, too arrogant to see anyone else's view. I'd stayed in the back all those years, watching as he struggled to locate his experiments.

And in the end, they'd beaten him. I remembered that day, when I arrived at their building. It was torn to shreds. Obviously, the necromancer girl had been stronger than anyone had imagined, and she'd been able to figure out how to set the demi-demon free from the walled cage that held her there. With her release, the whole building, everything that St. Cloud invested in, was gone.

And then there was that insolent Enright woman, who was stupid enough to mix her daughter's witch blood with that of a warlock before putting her into the study. That girl should've been taken out as a compromised specimen. She had too many blood experiments going on at once, but of course, she'd been able to sweet talk her way. That woman was more venomous than a cobra. And there she lay, dead in the rubble of the building. She still had that scowl of hers on her face. And she was holding a gun.

A gun whose bullet had taken the life of Davidoff. If I hadn't had to pretend that it was very serious, what had happened there, I might've laughed. Enright killed Davidoff! Finally, she must've realized how useless that man had been. Talking about how he was so strong for being an Agito, when he wasn't even close to being the top. That didn't matter, now, of course, because _I_ was on top. _I_ was running the show. And, after twenty years of cleaning up after Davidoff, _I_ was the one who had captured the experiments in their home.

And, there had been an extra little surprise for me. Two bedrooms, one for a teenage girl, the other for a teenage boy. The experiments had had _children_. It was the perfect opportunity to open a new slot of experiments – half-breeds. Our results from those two couldn't be perfect, because of the fact that their parents had been in the Genesis II project. They would be outliers, as well as Enright's daughter. And then St. Cloud would look at me like I was the best, instead of saying that the loss of Davidoff had been a huge hit to our industry.

He knew Davidoff was a screw-up, just like I did. Just like we _all_ did.

And now it was finally time to prove it.

**So what do you guys think? I'm really excited about continuing on this story, but I'll be flat-out honest and say that I'll lose gusto for it if you guys don't review.**

**As always, I love you guys for reading this (and hopefully reviewing – DOOOO IIIITTT.) Please feel free to leave me comments and criticism. I apologize ahead of time for any grammatical/spelling problems that I missed in my quick review.**

**With my stories, I enjoy creating playlists (as I have yet to find a rule against this.) Feel free to post any songs in the reviews that you believe pertain to this story. The rules for this little fun activity are that the songs cannot have over-the-top profanity or strong intimate situations. Thank you (:**

**Once again, don't forget to check out **_**After the End**_** and **_**The Hidden Truth**_**, and please do favorite this if you're enjoying it exponentially. Peace (:**


	2. Change of Plans

**I just wanted to throw out a thank you to all the readers out there who have read this or any of my other stories. Thanks (:**

**Silent Screams119 – It looks like you guys will just have to find out if Chloe and Derek have survived, or if they've fallen victim to crazy Dr. Watson… muahahaha (:**

**Crixtine – Oh my, gosh! Thank you! I could never think of the correct word, and I was sure that it wasn't "wizard" so I went with "warlock." I'm making a mental note that the word is "sorcerer," and I promise I'll use that word from here on out. (; Thanks again! (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_2: Change of Plans_

Whitney

I held onto the steering wheel tightly. Zander yelled as he gripped the handle bar above his window. The tires squealed as I hit the gas. I could practically see the little hand on my gas tank fall. My knuckles were turning white as I straightened the car on the road. The white van barely stopped at the stop sign before following us. They had to know that I knew, or else I wouldn't have pulled such a dangerous turn. And now their sense of stealth was thrown off. They were going for it.

Zander had one hand on his seatbelt, as if he thought it was going to snap off. I knew this part of the neighborhood like the back of my hand. Dad had made me drive through it right after I got my license. I knew it so well that I could draw a detailed map of it. Zander knew it, too, but he was definitely freaking out more than I was. Maybe it was because I was so focused on the wheel that I couldn't really panic like I would have.

I turned the car again. Everything that we had in the back of the car tumbled as I turned the wheel. Zander let out a few choice words that mom would've been mad he'd said. I didn't say anything as I quickly twisted the wheel the other way, going down some of the narrow, older streets in the neighborhood. One more turn would put me on a road that twisted and turned so sharply it was considered more of a deathtrap than a road.

I barely tapped the breaks to turn onto the road. Zander let loose another set of words that mom would've sent him to his room for. He gripped the oh-crap bar. "You're going too fast!" He shouted as I turned the car again.

"Are they still following?" I asked. Zander turned in his seat to look. More things tumbled around, falling on top of each other. I hoped nothing was breakable, because it was bound to be shattered by time we got out of this.

"They're a little farther back." He said, settling back into his seat. He pulled his seatbelt off of his neck and sunk down into his seat. "Please don't kill us." He said.

I snorted out a short laugh. "I don't plan to," I yanked the wheel with the turn of the road, my shoulder slamming into the glass of the window. In a little while, the road would veer sharply to the right, and then we'd be looking out over a dried-up riverbed. It was a high cliff side, full of broken, sharp rocks. My hope, even though it was dark and sort of scary, was that they wouldn't be expecting the curve, and they would break out over the edge and tumble down the cliff side. It was our only way to get out of here, and I intended to keep Zander and me alive. And then we could go and find our parents. It was the only plan I had, and it wasn't even fully formed, but I didn't have time to sit there and try to think of something.

"Please tell me you know what you're doing." Zander called out.

"I have a plan."

"Does that plan include throwing us off the cliff?"

"No, but it does include throwing _them_ off the cliff." I replied, letting my foot off the gas pedal. I had to effectively slow down without giving them the cue to. I could feel my eyebrows draw together as the turn grew closer. I glanced into the rearview mirror to see the van right on our tail. They'd sped up, and their bumper was nearly hitting my fake license plate.

The turn was right in front of us. I hit the brakes and yanked the wheel. Zander yelled out, and I was pretty sure that I screamed as the car drifted on the road. I ended up in the left lane, facing oncoming traffic. Luckily, there was no one coming our way. I glanced into the rearview mirror, straightening the car in the right lane. I'd looked up just in time to see the white windowless van hit the metal guardrail. The front crunched under the pressure, but it still flipped over the guardrail and tumbled down the cliff. I continued on, and then Zander let out a low whistle. I glanced in the rearview mirror again and caught sight of the van, flames bursting out of the engine. I was sure they only had a few minutes until it heat up the gas tank enough for it to blow.

I pulled over to the side of the road. Zander and I ran to the guardrail and looked over the edge of the cliff. The van had landed on its hood, the front and the top crumpled like pieces of paper. The windows were broken – I could see a clear trail of shining, shattered glass down in the rocks. Fire was engulfing the wheels, one of which was crooked on its axle. The opposite wheel was spinning madly, like the driver still had his foot on the pedal. The passenger door popped open and someone manage to spill out. Zander sucked in a breath as the guy started to stand up. But by then, the fire had reached the gas tank, and the entire van exploded.

I shielded my eyes, but I was able to see the guy that had gotten out of the van go flying. There was no way he could've survived, and I hadn't seen anybody else get out of the van. I felt sick, bile rising in my throat as Zander yelled out, "That was freaking _awesome_!" He had to be referring to the explosion, not the fact that at least two people had just died in front of us. I leaned against the rail, my stomach rising in my throat. I gagged, and Zander patted my back but looked away as I retched over the railing.

"Come on," Zander said after a few minutes. I hadn't thrown up at all, but the gag reflex was apparently strong. I coughed and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Zander headed back to the car, suddenly sobered by the thought that we'd just seen two peoples' lives end. He waited until I was at the driver's door before opening his door and sliding into his seat. I glanced over at the railing again, sure that if I waited any longer, someone was bound to come by and notice the wreckage. We needed to get out of here, fast.

I cranked the engine and pushed the car into drive. I quickly weaved my way down the rest of the cliff side road, and out of the neighborhood. I hit the gas pedal a little more when we got to the frontage road, and then we were on the highway.

Zander didn't say anything, and neither did I. I watched the road ahead of me and tried to think of all the things our parents had taught us. Mom was the compassionate one, and dad had been the one with a plan. He was logical, just like me. Zander was a little too thoughtful with the _what if's_. Dad had always told us to go with our guts, though, and mine said to forget about the van and its riders and find my way to Uncle Simon's. Even though my emotions said that I should feel some strong remorse for planning their demise, I couldn't do it, not right then. I needed to keep my head on straight and make sure Zander didn't do anything stupid.

But most of all, I needed to make sure that we got out of this alive… and that included our parents.

# # #

Dr. Watson

I got the message a little after we finished our experiments for the day. It wasn't supposed to be hard. They were just teenagers, probably as stupid as their parents. They were probably scared, too, that their parents had gone missing. It was supposed to be an easy grab. Yet they failed, taking one of my vans with them.

Now I had to replace the three men in the van, as well as my car. And then I had to cover up their deaths and the destruction of my van. If anyone caught wind of this and looked into it farther…. I didn't think that the idiots in the van had been smart enough to hide their tracks. They would probably lead the local police right to our group, and I didn't need that kind of attention. St. Cloud would be livid if the police showed up digging for answers.

It was easy to get a cleanup crew in there. I didn't care what they did with the bodies or the scraps of metal that remained of my van, but I wanted all of this to stay hidden. It seemed like I needed to get higher trained operatives to get the Souza children. And once I had them in my grasp… I could get them to do whatever I wanted. I had something that they cared about – the life of their parents hung in the balance.

Children's behaviors reflected their parents. So who was there to punish, for those teenager's faults against me? Chloe and Derek Souza, in their separate cells. I'd put them right next to each other, though they wouldn't be able to speak. But if I could make the necromancer scream… it wouldn't be impossible for her werewolf to hear her. And that would just be getting started.

# # #

Chloe

Where was I? I had no idea. It had been years since I'd woken up somewhere I didn't belong. The last time I had was when I was fifteen. A hazy memory washed over me. Of Davidoff and his experiments, and the demi-demon whom I had set free, and who still hadn't come back to uphold her end of the bargain. I sat up and brushed my hand over my hair. The skin at my forehead and right temple was tender. I let my fingers trail over the hard bump and the cut that joined it. I must have hit my head somewhere in the scuffle.

The scuffle. I'd been in the kitchen, making a sandwich for Derek. He'd come home from work to see me, and I'd decided that it would be a good time to have an impromptu picnic. It had been a long time since either one of us had done something romantic for the other. It was hard, with two teenagers, work, and the constant up-and-downs of life.

Derek had stormed into the house, making me drop the knife covered in mayo on the counter. He didn't pause to look at me as he dug for the legal pad I kept in the kitchen drawer. He flipped through the pages, skimming over the screenplay ideas that I'd scribbled down there on occasion. And then he'd ripped out a sheet and scribbled down something in his block print.

I'd asked him what it was that was bothering him, and he'd told me about the strange smell he'd encountered outside. He thought that it was someone who had finally caught up to us. I felt my heart drop in my stomach. We'd managed to stay hidden away from these people for the last twenty years. We'd settled down and started a life. We had _children_. And what was going to happen to them? There were still four hours until they were supposed to be home.

Derek ran to put the note in Whitney's room. She would be the one to catch something like that – a single note. Zander's room was still a mess, despite the fact that I'd told him to clean up at least a million times this past month. My throat closed up at the thought of losing our children. What were we going to do without them? What would they do without us? Whitney was only seventeen, and Zander was a year younger than her.

But Derek and I had taught them how to survive, if something like this ever arose. I could only hope that the two of them retained the information and went through with it. I thought about calling Simon to let him know that his niece and nephew were supposed to be coming, but if whoever it was decided to be thorough, they would check our phone records. They would know the last place I called, and they would know that it had been only minutes after Derek got home. I had to trust that Derek had somehow gotten the message to Simon like he said he would.

Derek told me that our kids could handle themselves. Whitney was like Derek – she had a good head on her shoulders. She was logical and analytic. She was a puzzle-solver, and she was a fighter. Zander had a lot of Derek's good qualities, too, but he was a little more like me. I could imagine Zander getting emotionally involved in a situation. He would try to decide what was best for everyone, and that could get him into trouble. But I had to remind myself that our kids were at the age that Derek and I had been – slightly older, even – and we'd been able to take care of ourselves just fine, without any training on my part. Whitney and Zander had the tools to help them survive.

Derek had returned, grabbed me around the waist, and planted a kiss on my lips just as the front door broke in. This was it. Derek turned, his growl emanating out of his chest and rolling around the room. It was a dangerous sound. If I were breaking into this house, I would be too scared to come in. Yet four men came in anyway. Derek and I fought tooth and nail to get rid of them. We'd slowly spread out around the house. This was where I was at my weakest. I didn't have any bodies to rise in order to help me. I was just me – small, compact, and weak. I'd lucked out on the abilities bet. I could only hope that Whitney and Zander, who each had half of me and half of Derek, earned some of his strength and wit. Because I knew that this was coming to an end. I wasn't strong enough to fight them, and Derek couldn't take all four of them on when he was distracted with thoughts of me and our kids.

I used everything I could, shattering plates and trinkets. I even threw a picture frame at them, hoping that they didn't notice the two smiling kids that stared out of the frame. But that's when I was hit on the head, and that's when everything sort of blacked out for me.

And now I was here. This was a little less than a cell. Cement walls, no bathroom, and a crappy cot with a single musty sheet. There wasn't even light in here. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I could just barely make out the outline of a door. I stepped off of the cot, realizing the moment my toes touched the cold floor that I wasn't wearing any shoes. They'd taken my _shoes_. I brushed a hand through my hair, my fingernails getting caught on dry blood.

I stood up shakily. It had been a long time since I'd been in pitch darkness like this. Derek had insisted on little nightlights in the halls when Whitney was born. Actually, before that, when I was pregnant with her. He said that he didn't want me to fall or trip over anything if I wanted a midnight snack or a trip to the bathroom. I think he knew that, even after all of these years, I still wasn't comfortable in the dark. There were too many instances where ghosts had taken that as means to jump out of the walls and scare me. Even after all these years, I was still jumpy about seeing dead people.

I put my hand on the door. It was metal, and there wasn't a handle on the inside. I couldn't even begin to think of how to get out of this. And even worse, I didn't know who was in control of all this. I'd seen Davidoff dead myself. I'd _ordered_ Tori's mother to shoot him after I returned her soul to her body, all those years ago. So who was after us now?

It seemed that I didn't have to wait long. There was a sound like an airlock, and then the door was swinging open. Lights, high up on the ceiling, cut on. I winced away from the sudden brightness of them. The ceiling was at least fifteen feet high, but the sound of the bulbs wheezing and humming was still audible where I stood.

"Hello," A man said. He was wearing a white lab coat. His slicked-back hair had been black back in the day, but now it was turning a graying white. He had a mustache of the same color on his upper lip. He was a little heavier set. I got the feeling that he was a little younger than he looked, though. He looked like he was about sixty, but I would guess by the shine in his eye that he was closer to fifty. And it wasn't even a pleasant shine, either. It was one that said he would enjoy hurting someone. One that said he didn't care what happened to other people.

I didn't answer him, and he gave me a toothy smile. It was a cruel smile, one that was full of hate and disgust. "My name is Dr. Watson," He said, looking me over. "And my, aren't you pretty? I would've thought that you would look more like that werewolf of yours. At least, I assumed so because your children don't really look like you at all." My throat clenched when he mentioned my children. Had he gotten a hold of Whitney and Zander? Were they in this building, or had they gotten away from him? I schooled my features into a poker face. I didn't want him to know that his words cut me. Watson laughed. "Oh yes, I can see that you want to keep them a secret, but I'll have you know, I am a fan of torture devices. I've collected a few in the past. Have you ever heard of the Iron Maiden? It works like a charm." He leered at me, and I tried not to make an expression at all.

When I didn't answer, he smirked and motioned behind him. A few men stepped into the room, wielding ropes. They converged on me, grabbing my arms and legs. One of them rolled in a metal stand. The men started to tie me to it, the ropes cutting in my flesh. Watson tapped his chin, clearly amused. I already hated him, and I could already tell that he was more dangerous than Davidoff had been.

"Here's the thing, Mrs. Souza. Can I call you Chloe?" I didn't answer, and he gave another humorless chuckle. "Chloe it is, then. So, Chloe, your two children are quite the little escapees. They've already single-handedly destroyed my van, which blew up and killed the men in it. Of course, those men were idiots, and couldn't be trusted to handle the smallest things. But it's clear that I'll have to step up my game for your children. I assumed that you and your werewolf have trained them well." He leered at me, and my heart constricted. Whitney and Zander destroyed his van and killed his men? I was no stranger to death, but to have my own children be forced to face that decision so early on in life… it had messed with both Derek and I for the rest of our lives.

"And so my question to you is: Where are they? What have you told them to do?" I kept my lips sealed, and the men tightened my ropes. I bit back the scream that crawled in the back of my throat. He motioned for them to continue, and I could help but let out a squeal of pain.

And that's when I heard it, the banging on the cement. It was Derek, I was sure. Who else would start to panic the moment I called out in pain? He'd probably heard every single one of Watson's words, too. I didn't know how thick the cement walls were, but I was hoping that Watson didn't know about Derek's heightened senses – they were stronger than the average werewolf's. The men continued to tighten my ropes, and Derek continued to pound on the wall. Watson chuckled under his breath.

"Don't tell them anything, Derek!" I screamed out. Watson made a face, and motioned to someone behind me. I could just barely see something heavy coming towards me out of the corner of my eye. I opened my mouth to scream out again, but the sound was cut off by the blow to my head. In seconds, I was back in the darkness.

**How did you like chapter two? Leave me a review and let me know what you guys thought! Thanks for reading, and please favorite/subscribe for when I post new chapters.**

**Please don't forget to go read my other stories, **_**The Hidden Truth**_** and **_**After the End**_**! Peace (:**


	3. Highway to Georgia

**I'm thinking far into the future for this story… I'm hoping that it won't take me long to get there. Thank you all for reading and continuing to read this little story of mine! Your reviews and support are greatly appreciated!**

**RandomReader15 – I'm glad you like it! (:**

**Crixtine – Awesome (: I'm glad that it came to your liking. :D And as for Diriel… she has an upcoming part, but I'll drop in the hint and say that it's not as good as big as a part as she had in the actual books.**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong**

_3: Highway to Georgia_

Derek

Chloe was _right there_. She was in the room next to mine. Just a cement wall separated us, made it impossible for me to get to her. And I knew they did it on purpose, whoever _they_ were. I knew I should've continued to keep my sense of paranoia instead of settling down. I got married to Chloe on the run; I could live my life on the run. But she didn't deserve that. She deserved a real life. She wouldn't leave my side and chase after that dream, so I did my best to fulfill it for her.

The sides of my fists were bloody from banging on the wall. The smell was thick in my nose, coating the back of my throat. Coppery. I spit into the corner to rid my mouth of the taste and sat down heavily on the thin cot set up in the opposite corner. I pressed my hands to my forehead. How had I let this happen? How had they gotten past me? I'd always been on high alert when it came to my family. Now they hurt Chloe, and they were after our children. My _kids_. My _mate_. The wolf inside me shook angrily, and I tamped down on the container that I'd shoved it into.

I'd heard every other word they said. I didn't want him, the man who had introduced himself as Dr. Watson, to say my wife's name. I'd heard him mention torture. I'd heard him mention death, and I'd heard him mention my kids. But what I heard, clearest of all, was Chloe's screams. They had to be torturing her, digging for information. What could we possibly have in terms of information? We'd stayed under the radar for the last twenty years.

I couldn't help but let out a growl and wish there was some way that I could talk to her. I needed to know that Chloe was okay. My wolf was aching to get out. I hadn't let it out since my last Change. Even to this day, Chloe was still at my side. She wouldn't leave me. The last and only time I'd Changed alone was when she had already been captured and I'd been locked in the attic. I'd been sixteen at the time. I closed my eyes and tried to think of Chloe, every moment we'd had together. Thinking of her was the only thing that could calm my wolf.

There were so many memories to choose from. The moment where I'd first kissed her, _really_ kissed her, right after we broke away from Davidoff. The moment I asked her to marry me and she said yes. The moment where I'd held my newborn daughter in my arms, Chloe in a hospital bed and a tiny tag around my baby girl's wrist, naming her as a Souza. The moment where I'd looked at my son for the first time, my daughter crowded on Chloe's hospital bed. All the years since.

Whitney and Zander could handle themselves, I was sure. I'd trained them both to my best. I was hoping that they would be able to stick it out, because it was clear that these people thought we had something they didn't. I just hoped that Simon had gotten my message – a simple coded letter, dropped in the neighbor's mailbox for outgoing. It should get to him soon. He would be able to decode it, and then he would know that Whitney and Zander were coming.

There was the creak of a key in a lock, the sound of someone stepping up to the metal door that led out of my cell. There wasn't a handle inside. I'd already tried to dent it into submission, but it was standing tall. They must have known that I was a werewolf or else they wouldn't have taken so much consideration into my cell. I looked up from where I sat on my cot.

The man was shorter than me and heavier in weight – at least, he was more rounded than I was. His whitening hair and receding hairline marked his age. He was a good ten years older than me, and I would bet that he hadn't had any formal training. Neither had I, but I'd bet that I'd been in more fights than he had. I stayed where I was, though, glaring at him.

"Ah, I see that you've heard your wife in there. Don't worry. She's not dead." I forced myself to clench my fists and keep from leaping up to tackle him. I wanted to know what he was looking for. "But she was adamant that she wasn't going to answer my questions. She is… sleeping it off." A low growl escaped from me. I could feel it in my chest. "Now, now, let's not get violent. So here I am to ask my question to you, since your wife wouldn't answer me. She doesn't want us to know where your children are. But I figure… you've a little more at stake, don't you? The wolf doesn't want your kids or your mate to be injured… so tell me what I want to know and I promise that she will not meet her days' end."

I pretended like I was thinking it over. I could hear Chloe yelling out to me, telling me not to tell them anything. She knew that he would offer me this, her protection. And Chloe had vowed to do anything for our children the moment we'd found out she was pregnant with Whitney. She would have a hard time forgiving me if I put our children at risk for any reason at all. Besides, I'd spent my early years outsmarting men like him, and my later teen years and entire adult life evading men like him. He wasn't going to get anything out of me. "What do you want to know?" I asked, my voice low and echoing in the cell.

"Where are your children going? What have you told them to do?" He asked, giving me a cruel smirk.

I moved to get up off of the cot. Watson looked up at me as I stood from my seat. I cleared my throat, and I got the pleasure of seeing Watson's throat bob when he swallowed. He was scared of me, as he should be. I clenched my fists a little tighter and glanced him over. I reached out and grabbed a hold of his throat, lifting him up and pushing him against the cement wall, where my blood was still drying. He choked as I squeezed his throat. "What did you do to Chloe?" I demanded.

He forced out a laugh, making me squeeze his windpipe a little more. Within seconds, men had rushed into the rooms and were grabbing at my arms. I pushed them away, but it wasn't long before I felt the sting of a needle in my arm. I glanced down to see a tranquilizer dart. I gave Watson another warning, knowing that my plan to knock him out and take his key to release Chloe had come to an end. It was the only plan that I could muster at the time, and now I could see why it was so stupid – I'd had mere minutes to make it up, but that still wasn't an excuse. I'd let my stress get in the way of forming an airtight plan.

The tranquilizer started to take effect, and my grip loosened on Watson. I found myself staggering, eyes going hazy as I tried to focus on the man who had now placed himself at the top of my hated persons list. The man smirked at me, and I ached to reach out and pound him into the wall. "Well, Derek Souza, it seems like your plans haven't gotten you very far. And, believe me when I say that I won't make this easy for you _or_ your mate. And when I capture your children, which I _will_, they'll be lucky if they get to see you two ever again."

My feet seemed to be made of lead, and I struggled to move my limbs. Some of the men that I had earlier pushed away pulled me to the cot. It didn't take long for blackness to wash over me

# # #

Whitney

It should only take a little while to drive up to Uncle Simon's house in Georgia. He had an art studio there. I knew both his home address and the address of his art studio – they were written down on a piece of paper in my glove box. I had made Zander write it down on my wrist while I tried my best to speed around an eighteen wheeler that seemed intent on staying in my way.

I hardly said a word to my brother as I drove. Driving in the silence was the perfect time to sit back and review what had happened to me, and how I felt about it. I was panicked about the whole ordeal. I mean, the most stressful part of my day before I'd gotten home had been how I was going to explain to my mom that I'd almost revived a hamster. Now, it was if my parents were still alive and if I had a warrant for murder. I wished that I could close my eyes and pretend like this was all a dream, but it probably wouldn't be very smart, not with forty cars speeding by me and weaving in and out of traffic.

I was confused. How had they found my parents? Dad had always been high-strung, like he knew exactly what was going on and how to deal with it. Mom hadn't seemed like she thought anything fishy was going on. So had they just dropped out of nowhere and snatched them up? What were they doing with them now? I hoped with my entire heart that my parents were still alive. I didn't know how I'd be able to move on without them. My parents had taught me everything, and to lose them… I was only seventeen. I still _needed_ my parents. I'd seen the way that mom was broken over the fact that she hadn't had contact with her father since she was fifteen.

And then there was that little part where I'd planned to send another car off a cliff. I'd seen the people die, and it was entirely my fault. I planned it, and I hadn't exactly called 911 when they hit the rail like a good person would. But they had been out to get me and Zander, and there was no doubt in me that they were from the same group that had taken my mom and dad. So why did I feel like I was no good? An intense guilt had settled inside of me. I bit down on my lip as I flicked on my blinker to pull off the highway. Zander sat up a little in his seat. I hadn't intended to stop, but now my stomach was hurting. I figured that I might need something to eat, since it had been a few hours since Zander and I had made our grand escape.

I pulled up into a drive thru and ordered in a monotone. Zander fed me his order and I repeated it word for word into the little box. I flicked through my wallet and pulled out a twenty, planning to keep the money that Zander and I had stashed in our duffel bags until I was out of what I already had. I tried not to look at the woman as she made my change and then handed me our food and drinks. Zander didn't say anything as he tore open his wrapper and dug in. I took a long drag of my drink and dug through the bag for my fries, keeping one hand on the wheel. I couldn't help but think that dad would be super mad at me if he could see me now. He had always told me "ten-and-two."

I bit back the tears that threatened to spill. I don't cry. It's something that I always refused to do in front of other people. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd cried. I wasn't about to now. I guess it had to do with the fact that I was a hurricane of emotions. Today had been the most stressful that I'd ever had to endure. And I was the type to shove my emotions into a little jar in the back of my mind to avoid messing with them. Mom had told me, time and time again, that my way of coping was unhealthy, but old habits die hard. I'm not like her. I can't just let the way I feel leak out of me like she could. That's probably why she always seemed like she was so balanced. She never hesitated to voice her worries or regrets or problems, and she seemed a little better for it. Zander was like her in that way. He didn't mind letting me know exactly how he was feeling, even if that ranged from him yelling at me to him throwing stuff around the room.

I, on the other hand, was the silent type when I got angry. Only when my little jar had filled to the brim did I snap, and when I broke, it was bad. I vaguely remembered the last time something simple had set me off. I'd screamed and shouted and kicked a hole in the wall plaster of my bedroom. Dad had taken a hold of my wrists – both of them in one of his hands – and held me there until I stopped crying and trying to kick him. That seemed like forever ago. I'd gotten better at siphoning out my little jar, but I was always worried that one day it would break again, and that time, dad wouldn't be around to make sure that I didn't do anything stupid.

I bit down on my lip so hard that I tasted blood. I let out a little expletive, the salt from my fries burning my now fresh wound. I continued to eat, though. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I had food in front of me. I took another sip of my drink as I drove, fishing around for the chicken nuggets that were sitting in the bottom of the bag.

"Whitney," Zander said quietly. Neither of us had talked since we pulled out onto the highway and a few hours had passed since then. His voice was so loud in the silence I'd grown accustomed to – I'd turned off my radio, I didn't want to hear any upbeat music when I just saw a van blow up – that I jumped, nearly spilling my nuggets onto the floorboards. I just barely managed to save them. I shot him a dirty glare and resumed eye contact with the road in front of me. It was going to start getting dark soon. I think that made me more nervous than anything. I hated driving at night.

"What?" I asked.

"Everything's going to be fine." He said.

"I never said it wasn't going to be," I replied, my tone dripping with contempt. Immediately, I wanted to chastise myself. Zander was just trying to ease my nerves. Even if I didn't outwardly show them, he knew me well enough that he could tell I was freaking out deep down. Zander was only a little over a year younger than me. More often than not, he was like he was my same age. Sometimes he showed a slightly higher maturity level. Right now was one of those times, I'd just shot him down. I sighed, and Zander let out a pent-up breath. "Sorry," I muttered. He just shrugged.

I drove in another twenty minutes of silence, the soda starting to hit my system. I'd been so tired, but now my eyes were wide open. I wished that I'd thought to grab some of dad's energy bars from the pantry when I'd passed by it. The things tasted awful, but it would've helped me from being tired like I was earlier, and like I would be in the future when I crashed from my sugar high. I ran a hand over my face, not even bothered by the fact that I was probably smearing eyeliner and mascara over my cheeks. The thought of it made me sad all over again. Dad had been adamantly against me wearing makeup. It was one of those moments where he didn't want me to grow up. Even though it had been annoying at the time, it had made me love him all the more.

"Do you think Uncle Simon knows we're coming?" He asked.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "Dad said that he would have some way to send Uncle Simon a message, but I don't know if he had time."

Zander shrugged. "Well, hopefully we'll get there in a few hours."

"We should," I replied tiredly. "And then we can start to figure out how to get mom and dad back." I told him.

"I thought dad said to just let Uncle Simon handle everything."

I glanced over at him. "Zander, do you really think I'm going to sit back and just let Uncle Simon try to figure out where they are?" I shook my head before he could answer me. "There's no way I'm going to let that happen. They're _our_ parents."

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't go, I'm just saying that maybe we need to step back and give the reigns to Uncle Simon when we get there." He said. Above me a sign read that we were only an hour away from the Georgia-Florida border. Once I reached Valdosta, I could take a breather, and then I would have to drive another four hours north to where Uncle Simon lived. If I drove continuously, it would be around midnight when I got there, but I didn't see any point in stopping. It would be safer if we just drove straight through the night.

I shook my head. "No way," I breathed. "Uncle Simon can help, but you know I'm not the type to just let someone else take the lead." I told him.

Zander gave a heavy sigh, and bit down on my lip, ignoring the pain that shot through the area that I had bitten earlier. He settled into his seat, sinking a little, and pulled a book from his backpack. Zander wasn't a known reader, but there was probably nothing better for him to do for the next five hours. I kept my eyes on the road, determined to just get through this.

# # #

I glanced at my dashboard clock. It was nearly one. I'd miscalculated by an hour – who knew that the highway would be that busy that late at night? Plus, I'd stopped for bathroom breaks and a venti-sized coffee. My eyes were already droopy, since my soda and coffee combo had officially failed me about an hour ago. It had been a long time since I'd been to Uncle Simon's, but I still knew how to get to his house. Dad had made me memorize a birds-eye view from the town's courthouse to Uncle Simon's house. As I turned down the street, the letters on the street sign blaringly white this late at night, I told myself that I was almost there.

Uncle Simon lived in a comfortable-sized home. He lived alone – no wife or kids, and I could never really figure out why. For an uncle, he was pretty handsome, though he was sort of exotic. Uncle Simon wasn't my dad's real brother, but his adoptive brother. Dad had black hair and green eyes, two things that I'd inherited, while Uncle Simon had blonde hair from his mother and Korean almond-shaped eyes from his father, my grandfather who lived in Minnesota. But now that I looked at it, Uncle Simon had a string of interesting girls that lasted for a few months at a time. I guess he wasn't really the type to settle down and get married, like Aunt Tori.

It had been a long time, but it was nice to see his gray stoned house. All of the windows were dark, but I imagined so, unless he was the type to stay up until one in the morning. The headlights of my car flashed in the windows, reflecting back at me. I winced inwardly, already half blind from other drivers' headlights coming towards me on the opposite side of the road. Zander had fallen asleep a few hours ago. I pulled the car all the way up into the driveway, only halfway worried about crushing Uncle Simon's plants. I turned off the engine and shook Zander awake. He came out of his slumber swinging his arms, as if he was going to fight me off.

"Come on, Zee," I said, shaking his shoulder.

He groaned loudly and yawned, sitting up a little higher in his seat. "We're here?"

"Yep. Now come on. I'm tired."

Zander and I scrambled out of the car. As a precaution, he paused and took a deep breath. The wind was blowing my hair all over the place, but I echoed his sentiment and took a deep breath, trying to sniff around the citrus smell of my shampoo and Zander's constant scent of Axe body spray. It didn't smell wrong, like it had at home. Uncle Simon always smelled like art supplies to me, but I couldn't even smell that. Zander seemed content with the way the wind blew over his face, and he gave me a nod. I closed my door a little too hard and hurried up the four steps to Uncle Simon's front door. I glanced at my brother for a moment before raising a hand and punching the doorbell.

**Okay, so I couldn't stay away. I'll be honest – sometimes I get really into a story and I'll update a chapter every few days, but I might lose gusto for it after a week or so. Still, I promise that I won't be giving up easily. (:**

**But anyway, here's your prize for today! There's barely been twenty-four hours since my last update, and here's the next chapter! Yay! Lol :D**

**As always, please leave me a review of your thoughts, and don't forget to favorite/subscribe so you can come back when I update again! Peace (:**


	4. A Stranger's Face

**Crixtine – Let's just say that Simon is not alone… and you'll find out who's with him in this chapter! And yes, Tori is happily married. Who would've guessed that she would be able to find someone and settle down with them? (:**

**fireicegirl16 – I'm glad you like it! Thanks for reading!**

**Emo's Love – Assuming that "being speechless" is because of how awesome this story is instead of being flat out awful, I'm going to say thanks. Lol (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_4: A Stranger's Face_

Whitney

I was so tired that I didn't even care about the rudeness of it; I just hit the doorbell as many times as I could. I could hear it, dinging loudly in the house. Zander leaned against the front window, his breath fogging up the glass. Uncle Simon was bound to be annoyed when he opened the door. That is, if he ever _did_ open the door. I reached out to hit the button again when Zander nudged my arm. Someone was coming from the depths of the house to the front door.

I could hear the locks on the other side. The door swung open, and Uncle Simon stood there. I blinked back my shock at seeing him. Whenever I did see him, he was always wearing loose jeans and a shirt that, more or less, had smudges from art supplies on them. When he was getting dressed up, he wore khaki pants and nice dress shirts. But now, he was wearing sweat pants and button-up shirt that he was trying to button up as he stood there. He blinked, his eyes narrowing in on us. "Whitney? Zander?" He seemed confused for a moment, and then he seemed to realize that this wasn't some weird drop-in in the middle of the night. This was something _serious_. He cursed under his breath and reached for my arm, pulling me over the threshold. "Where are your parents?"

"I don't know," I whispered. My voice broke, and Uncle Simon gripped my arm a little tighter. Zander watched from the porch, his eyes completely zoned in on me. At night, his blue eyes seemed to look a little more animalistic. It was like he was tapping into his werewolf side. I wouldn't doubt that he was able to see a little better than the rest of the world could. I was sure that even _I_ could see just a little better than Uncle Simon.

"Did you bring your bags and things?" Uncle Simon asked. He glanced out behind Zander and into the night. My car was still wheezing a little from driving for several hours in a single sitting.

Zander nodded. "Yeah, it's all in the car."

"Hurry up and grab it and come on in." Zander turned to the car, which was still unlocked in case we had to make a run for it. He pulled open the back and yanked out both of our duffel bags. Uncle Simon looked at me. "You know where your room is. I'm going to go and make sure that the security system is all up and running. You two need to sleep, and we'll talk in the morning." He pulled me into one of those awkward uncle hugs, and said, "Everything we'll be fine."

It was the exact words Zander had said, but for some reason, they felt more formidable coming from an adult, my uncle no less, who had suffered alongside my parents when he was a teenager. I nodded and he stepped away to make sure that his security system was up and running. I stood there for a moment longer before directing Zander to the room that we'd shared when we were younger. It was sort of weird to be sharing a room with my brother, but it would've given me a sense of calm. I didn't want to be alone in the middle of the night in my uncle's house, knowing that the only reason I was there was because my parents were missing and in danger. It was nice to have someone who knew exactly what I was going through next to me. Besides, it had been the room that the two of us had always stayed in when we came to visit Uncle Simon. It had two twin beds just for the two of us.

Zander and I took all our bags into the room. Zander collapsed onto his bed and within minutes was asleep. With my eyelids still drooping, I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my hair. I even changed into a camisole tank top and a pair of too big sweatpants. It seemed like a lot to accomplish with how tired I was. Finally, I was able to crash onto my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped that I wouldn't dream of what had happened to me earlier today.

# # #

I woke up tired and a little sore. I figured that it was probably stress. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Zander was still asleep. If anything he could eat and sleep. I yawned and stretched before climbing out of my bed and finding my duffel bag. I picked through my clothes, pulling out a comfortable pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Once I'd changed, I took my pillow and threw it at Zander to get him awake. One glance at the clock told me that it was almost lunch time, and I figured that even though we'd woken him up at an ungodly hour, Uncle Simon was probably already awake.

"What?" Zander asked, clearly tired. He was still half asleep when he said it. He took a deep breath and then practically sat up straight. I jumped, not expecting him to suddenly be awake. He took a deep breath and looked at me, his eyes wide. There was something in the air that he didn't like. My heart constricted in my chest. Could they have found us? Were we safe where we were? Panicked, I forced myself to close my eyes and take a deep breath. Around the smell of Uncle Simon's paint supplies, there was the underlying scent of something different, something I never encountered before. It was a guy's smell, like cologne or something.

"Hurry up," I said, turning my back to grab my cell phone. It was comforting to have _something_ to hold onto, though I probably couldn't use it anymore. Whoever had my parents would probably try to tap into our phone lines. They probably knew about Uncle Simon's ties to my parents, too, which meant that he had to be cautious, too. It meant that we had to call Aunt Tori and grandpa and tell them that someone had gotten my parents. I bit down on my lip, scared of what would happen in the future. What if I couldn't find my parents? What if this was the end for it all? What if they were out to get Uncle Simon and Aunt Tori too?

I picked up one of the baseball bats that Zander had left here last time we'd been here when we were younger. It had been years since Zander had done anything baseball related, but the bat made for a good weapon. I picked it up and weighed it in my hand. I figured that I would be able to do some damage. Dad had taught me how to fight when we were younger. It had been a long time, but there are some things that you just don't forget.

I opened the door, and within a second I was reeling back and raising the bat over my head. A scream escaped from me, and I went to smash the bat into the guy standing at the bedroom door. Whoever he was, he caught the bat in his hand. It sort of all happened at once. I was aiming the bat for a guy who caught it and didn't seem to think anything about the pain of it. I heard Zander trip over something in his rush to get to the door, and then I saw Uncle Simon standing behind the guy at the door.

"Whitney!" Uncle Simon exclaimed. "Stop, it's okay!"

"Oh, my God!" I breathed, still wielding my baseball bat above my head. "What _is_ this?"

"Whitney, Zander, this is Coe." Uncle Simon motioned towards the guy standing by the door. "He's uh, been staying with me. I know him through your father."

"Our _father_?" Zander and I repeated at the same time. If this were any other time, I would've nudged him in the side, but for now, I just stared at the guy, Coe. "So, what are you doing at my bedroom door, anyway?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

Coe cleared his throat. At first I thought he was older, but when I looked at him again, he was probably just a few years older than me. He had to be about eighteen or nineteen. I wouldn't even say that he was twenty. His chocolate brown hair and striking blue eyes were flat out gorgeous. He was the kind of guy that Jaime and I would see in magazines. "I was coming to, uh, introduce myself. You missed breakfast."

Zander groaned, I shoved him away from the open door. Uncle Simon motioned to Coe. He looked like he was about to say something when Zander took a deep breath and then practically pushed me out of the doorway. He had his hand tight on the doorknob, like he was about to slam it shut. "You're werewolf," He said. I stared blankly at Coe. Dad had tried to teach Zander and I how to pick out people that were special. Werewolves were easy because they _smelled_ like wolf. I'd never been able to pick up on it, but Zander could.

Coe cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. Uncle Simon swooped in for the rescue. "Yes, but Coe is like your father. There's not going to be any territorial problems or anything like that." He said, giving me a pleading eye. Zander and I were both half werewolf, but he seemed a little more tapped into his werewolf side. Sure, I was sometimes aggressive, and I definitely liked my personal space and refused to give up what was mine easily, but I'd never _really_ been like my dad. Zander was a little more like him than I was, but I didn't think he was that bad, either. But Coe was the full-blown thing. He was a full-blooded werewolf.

I nudged Zander. "Chill, Zee." I told him. I raised my eyebrow at Uncle Simon and said, "I expect a full explanation."

Coe looked a little amused. I didn't know what he could think was funny. I was being dead serious when I said that I wanted the full story, and my tone hadn't been joking at all. "Of course you do. And I echo the sentiment." Uncle Simon said. He glanced at Zander, whose hair was still standing on end from the way he'd slept on it, and who had thrown on a shirt so quickly that it was backwards. "Finish getting ready and we'll have lunch."

I bit down on my lip and glanced at my brother. I was fully dressed, and I'd even taken the time to put on my average makeup. Just because I had people chasing after me didn't mean that I couldn't look nice. I nudged Zander back into the room and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind me. I was squished for a moment between it and my Uncle Simon and Coe. I let my eyes run over the teenage wolf standing in front of me, and then shrugged and stepped past him.

I headed straight for the kitchen. I didn't usually drink coffee in the mornings. When I did, it was usually a frappe or whatever they were called. Very rarely did I drink flat out, hot coffee. It was usually too strong for me, even with a load of cream and sugar. But right now, I was tired and was seriously craving _something_ that would maybe make this all feel a little better. It was sort of like I was in a dream right now, like all of this was fake and I would wake up in a few minutes with an amusing story. Like my parents weren't missing, their lives possibly hanging in the balance, while I was stuck at Uncle Simon's, explaining my life story to a teen werewolf and an uncle I hadn't seen in a long time, a breed that my dad had constantly warned me weren't generally like him. I sighed and poured myself a cup of coffee, dipping my pinky into the mug before deciding it was cold and popping it in the microwave.

Coe took a seat at the counter bar. He played with a glass of orange juice, which was basically empty. His eyes never left the countertop as I opened Uncle Simon's fridge and pulled out the creamer. Uncle Simon looked a little torn. I didn't know if it was just because of my presence – I wasn't supposed to be here unless there was something gravely wrong at home – or because Coe was supposed to stay secret from Zander and me. I couldn't tell if the latter was a true statement, but it was definitely on the list. Why else would I not know about him, when apparently he was living with my uncle through his association with my father?

Zander stepped out of the bedroom, his shirt now on the right way and his hair smoothed down. He looked at Coe sitting at the counter, and then turned his attention to our uncle, who had taken a seat next to the teen wolf. He was staring at the morning newspaper, but I could tell that he wasn't really reading it. I poured my creamer into my coffee. Zander made a face at it. He'd never liked coffee. He said not only did it taste disgusting, but it smelled awful, too. I would second that if I wasn't such a caffeine addict.

"So," I said to Uncle Simon, cupping my hands around the extremely hot mug of coffee. It burned my fingertips, but I sort of liked the warmth of it. "Tell me how you came to live with a werewolf, and what it has to do with my _father_." By the end of my sentence, I was almost spitting out the words. I knew there were a lot of things that my parents had told me, but there were a lot of things that they had failed to mention. I wondered if that included an entire person. The guy in question stiffened a little, his fingers white on his glass of orange juice.

Uncle Simon cleared his throat and ran his hand over his blonde hair. It was short and limply spiked. Mom had once told me that it hadn't changed much since they were teenagers, but I didn't really think guys' hairstyles changed much in the first place. Still, it was amusing to think of my uncle as younger. It was sort of the same way I would be adamant that my parents had never been kids, even though I'd seen pictures of them when they were younger. It didn't seem right.

"When we were younger, a friend of ours tried to get Derek, your father, to get closer to the werewolves. He wasn't like them. He didn't like the idea of the violence. Your father is not only a good man, but he's also an extremely civilized werewolf. But your father needed his questions about what he was answered, so he went looking. He met up with a werewolf that, like him, didn't see the reason for the violence and the hatred and all the things that werewolves are generally associated with. He was a higher up and was trying to change things. He was –"

Coe cut him off. "My father. He was my father. He was killed for wanting to change things. He always told me that if anything happened to him, I needed to find the one man that I could trust, by the name of Derek Souza. I found your dad at his work, and he told me that he couldn't help me because he had his own family that he needed to protect, but that he would find somewhere for me to live. That was three years ago, and I've been here ever since." He said. He didn't look up from his cup as he spoke. I could tell by his tone, though, that just thinking of his dad hurt him.

Uncle Simon coughed nervously. "Yes, so here we are. You didn't know Coe because your parents wanted to keep you in the dark for as long as they could. Coe came along about a year after they told you, but at the time they couldn't figure out how to take on a full-blown werewolf as well as keep the two of you under wraps. You have to understand, you two are not like anyone else. I don't think there are any other people out there who can say that they are half werewolf and half necromancer. Besides, it wouldn't have been best for Derek, because his wolf definitely would've kicked in. He's always tried so hard to keep it at bay, so the thought of having someone else that could pull it out of him… well, your parents decided that he would be safer with me." Uncle Simon said.

Zander didn't say anything. He just looked at Coe. I was sort of surprised that I wasn't staring blankly at him, myself. He wouldn't have been hard to look at. He was freaking gorgeous. But it was hard to think that he had lived here for several years and we'd had no idea. That just proved how often we all saw each other. Usually, we just sent our Christmas gifts or birthday presents and cards in the mail. And it was like there was a whole new world out there that I knew nothing about because my parents had decided to keep me in the dark. I knew the negative connotations that came with werewolves, and I knew that dad was one out of a kind. I knew he had siblings once, who, in the study, had been terminated for their bad behavior. That was the kind of stuff that they expected on a regular basis. But the boy sitting at the counter didn't seem like that at all. In fact, I figured that if my dad had to be sent back in time to his teenage years, he would've been like Coe. Quiet. Silent. A little twisted and mysterious.

"What about you, then?"

I bit down on my lip, opening the cut that I'd put there the night earlier from doing the same thing. I licked my lips, tasting my own coppery blood. I stood there uncomfortably for a moment. Zander wouldn't have a problem telling them exactly what happened, but he was a little too ADD and emotionally involved to get just the facts out. It would make more sense coming from me, and since I was the oldest, it was pretty much my job.

"Zander and I came home from school, and he noticed that it smelled different. The front door was open, so we did our quick sweep. There was blood on the living room carpet." Uncle Simon paled at that, but I pushed through, refusing to look at him. Seeing him getting all stressed out about something definitely wouldn't help me, not when I suddenly felt tears prickling the back of my eyes. "It didn't look like it was too much. I think it would be about regular with a head wound, but I'm not a doctor." I bit down on my lip again, and Zander nudged me in the side, giving me some sort of emotional boost. "I changed out the license plates and got the fake documents, and we started to leave when a white van started following us. I started off through the neighborhood, taking the biggest twists and turns and the sharpest roads I could find. I… I led them right to the guardrail over the cliff side. Their van went down, and then it exploded. I know that whoever was in it died." I tried to force out the words nonchalantly, but they weren't something that could just be said. My voice lowered, turning into a whisper. Zander pushed his shoulder against mine again.

I blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over. I wasn't going to cry, not in front of these people. To make matters worse, I was the only girl here. If I ever did end up getting emotional, they wouldn't understand because they were _guys_. Guys just don't do well with emotions unless it's anger, and they can start yelling, too. "Did your parents leave you anything?"

"Just a note," I said. "It's in my bag. It wasn't very long. It just said that someone had come for them, that they didn't know who, and that we needed to get out of there. So we did. And here we are."

"What are we going to do?" Zander asked. He leaned forward on the counter, staring down at the dirty dishes in the sink.

"I don't know yet." Uncle Simon said. "Your dad was always the one with the plans. I just went along with them." He sighed and looked at his hands fisted together. "I think what I need to do first is call my dad and Tori, and then we'll try to figure things out from there. If your parents were captured, that means none of us were safe. And assuming that, since they chased you, they know about you two. If they're anything like what they were when I was your age, they'll be interested in the two of you."

Coe had been silent since his admission that his father was killed and that he'd come looking for _my_ dad, but now he spoke up. "Who is it that captured them?"

"I don't have any idea. In his note, dad said that he didn't know who it was either."

"I think it was the Edison Group. They're broken, but twenty plus years is certainly enough time to regain what they lost when we tore down their building. Dr. Davidoff was killed, but he wasn't the only one running experiments."

"Wait a second," Zander said. "You guys tore down a _building_?" I wanted to shake my head at him. He was so attention deficit it wasn't even funny. This was serious stuff, having to deal with our future, and the only thing he could focus on was the fact that our parents took down a building in their teen years. Granted, that was bound to be an interesting story, but it was totally _not_ what we needed to be focusing on right now.

"Well, a demi-demon did. But that's a story for another time," Uncle Simon replied, resting his chin on his fist. "You three be nice to each other while I go call some people. When I get back we'll make a plan." He turned and headed for the living room without waiting for our answer. Zander shrugged and headed straight for the pantry. He was already sixteen years old, but he was also a guy, which probably meant that he'd hit yet another growth spurt. He was always eating. The pantry door creaked when he opened it, and then he spent a good five minutes rifling through whatever was in there. Coe stayed where he sat, twisting his glass around, and I took another sip of my coffee, burning my tongue.

Coe really was handsome. He was taller than me, and he was clearly bulky – not in work-out-too-much type of way, but in the way were he was well-muscled. Werewolf muscled, I guess. But aside from his obviously nice body, his dark brown hair was a little long, curling at his ears and on the back of his neck, and standing across from him, I could see that while his eyes were incredibly bright blue, closer to the pupil they had spikes of a green hazel color. They were flat out beautiful.

"Why stay here?" I asked him. I guess it was pretty sudden, because he jumped, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second before they refocused on the cup cabinet behind me. I waited impatiently for his answer. Why would he want to stay here, with Uncle Simon? I assumed that he'd gone to school and had already graduated. Did he just decide to hang around because he had nowhere else to go? Or was he just not about to cut it anywhere else? Or was he just the type of person to mooch off someone until they were forced to go away? I opened my mouth to repeat my question, but Coe's answer beat me to it.

"Why stay?" He asked, giving a shrug. He still wouldn't look at me. "When my dad was found out for trying to change the traditions, the others all immediately thought of him as a traitor. It ruined our family. My dad was trying to do good, and the rest of them were just too stupid to see past it. They killed him and stripped my family of anything they owned. I had brothers, but they were all given a second chance because they said our dad was stupid. I was the only one, besides my youngest brother, who agreed with our father. But my youngest brother was killed, and I managed to get away. Your dad was the only name that I had, the only place for me to go. And he gave me a second chance here. I don't have money to go to college, and with the Changes in the future, I don't have the time or the energy to deal with it." He shrugged again. For a guy who seemed to be pretty quiet, he was extremely forthcoming when he was asked the right questions. "What about you, huh? What are you going to do now?"

I took another sip of my coffee. I set the mug down and slowly turned it on the counter top, watching the little rings from the bottom of it smear as my fingers drug through it. I tried to form an answer in my mind. What was I going to do? "I don't know," I said, "Not for sure, anyway. All I know is that I want to find my parents."

"Didn't they tell you to just let Simon handle it?" He asked me. "You've followed your directions and made your way here."

I shook my head. "Yeah, I did my directions, but from here on out, they don't matter. Whoever it is – the Edison Group, if that's even the right people – they want my parents for a reason. I don't know why, I don't know what for. But they're my _parents_. I can't just sit back and watch someone else take care of something that concerns me." I replied quietly. Zander emerged from the pantry with an entire sleeve of crackers in his hand.

Coe's eyes actually met mine, and I thought I saw a flash of a smile. But then he looked away again, and I wasn't sure if our little moment of connection was real or if I was so tired that I imagined it. It wouldn't be the first time that my lack of caffeine mixed with lack of sleep had caused me to see or say weird things. I turned away from him, having nothing more to say to him. Coe seemed like he could be a pretty nice guy, but I was going to keep him at an arm's length. He was a werewolf, and my dad had always warned me against their behavior. The trust that Uncle Simon had for him weighed heavily in my mind, but he hadn't proved himself to me. I was the kind of person who only gave respect when someone had earned it. The same thing went for my trust.

Weird as it was, I had the feeling that Coe wouldn't be the type of person I could shake off easily. It was that feeling that the new person could be a friend. I was still going to be on guard around him, but it was obvious to me that he was going to be a part of my life. I didn't know if it had to do with the fact that he knew my father or that he was living with my uncle, or even if it was just _him_, but Coe was here to stay.

# # #

Simon

I thought that Zander and Whitney took Coe's presence extremely well. He was a good kid. Quiet, smart, and definitely a little too logical with his life. He reminded me of Derek when he was younger. He reminded me of Derek _today_. I figured that he and Whitney would get along well. She was just as analytic and straightforward as her dad, but she also had one of those undeniable personalities. And Zander would accept him the moment he proved his worth. There would be no second tests or doubts about him afterwards, because Zander was just that trusting. It was good, but it was also dangerous.

I stared down at the phone in my in-home studio. It had been the only place that I figured they wouldn't come in to see what I was up to. My studio was off-limits, as it had always been. Even Coe, having just turned nineteen, wasn't allowed in my studio. It was my safe haven, but it was also the place where I'd decided I needed to call Tori and my dad. If someone had managed to capture Derek and Chloe, there was a chance that they'd be after us next. Not only did we now have to take care of Whitney and Zander, but we also needed to make sure that we stayed safe. There wasn't a chance at getting them back if we were all captured.

Finally, I picked up the phone. I would call Tori first. The two of us had an interesting relationship. We had just turned twenty-one when we found out that we were half-siblings. From that moment on, we'd antagonized each other more. Tori even ignored our father for a good few months before finally giving in to the idea. She still called him Kit, but it was now know that the two of us were related, which had made those months when Tori had a crush on me while we'd been in the Lyle House more than awkward. Thank God nothing had come out of that, because I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around it. It's safe to say that Tori was pretty disgusted herself. But after the two of us got used to the idea, the fact that we'd constantly bothered the other made more sense.

I dialed her number and waited impatiently for her to pick up. Tori almost always answered the phone. I figured, though, that this would be the one time that she would let it go to voicemail. It took a little while, but finally someone answered. "Hello?"

"Tori," I said.

"Simon?" She asked. It sounded like she was running through a wind tunnel, but she was probably in the subway. Tori had changed a lot from when we were younger. I couldn't imagine the sixteen-year-old version of herself ever agreeing to ride the subway unless we forced her to. She used to think that she was on top of the world, but as we got older and we matured, she realized that she wasn't standing on top of the world. She was still her bitingly sarcastic self, though.

"They found Derek and Chloe," I told her. She and Chloe had formed a pretty tight bond over the years. She and Derek still had their arguments, but they were better than they used to be. Tori had grown to care about us over the years, and I knew that, even though at one point she'd hit Chloe in the head with a brick, she loved them now. "Whitney and Zander are at my house." If anything, she loved those kids. She and Whitney got along like best friends.

"Do they know about Coe?" She asked quietly.

"I couldn't hide him away." I replied. "But they seem to not really be bothered by the idea of it."

"Of course they're not. They're probably more worried over the fact that their parents are missing." Tori said sarcastically. I tried not to roll my eyes, even though she wouldn't see me at all. I heard her swallow, and then she said, "I can come down if I need to."

"Not now," I told her, glancing out my studio window. "Just be careful for now. We'll need to figure out a plan on how to get them back. But until then, they'll stay here. Just be careful, Tori."

"You know I will be. Did you call Kit yet?"

"No," I told her.

"Well then, I'm honored that you chose to call me first." Tori was only being sarcastic because she was panicking deep down inside. If they'd gotten Derek and Chloe, it would be easy for them to get us next. None of us had higher senses like Derek did, even though Tori did have her witch magic and dad did have his sorcerer magic. I was close to helpless, since the experiment had been successful on me. "Call him and let him know that he needs to stay on his toes, and then call me if anything else comes up. I've got to get home. Rick and I have dinner planned." She told me. Rick was her husband of six years, and he was also a fire half-demon.

"I will. Be on the lookout."

"You know I will."

**SO, what do you guys think? Bringing in a cute werewolf with ties to Derek… hmm…. **

**Anyway, I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter! Leave me your thoughts and comments in the reviews, so I know what you guys are thinking! Peace (:**


	5. Emotionally Unstable

**Crixtine – I like long chapters, too (obviously.) Anyway, thanks for the review!**

**fireicegirl16 – Honestly, I love a bit of romance. Of course, we'll have to see how this plays out. (;**

**Emo's Love – Lol! **_**That**_** would've been amusing. I will be honest and say that I'm already cheering for Coe. He's so cute in my head. Haha (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_5: Emotionally Unstable_

Whitney

I was pacing. I was in the living room, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. I didn't understand why Uncle Simon had a fireplace. It was Georgia. I didn't really think it got that cold around here. The thought crossed my mind several times as my brain struggled to recollect everything that had happened so far. I was trying my best to figure out what had happened, what had tipped off the Edison Group or whatever they were called. For some reason, whenever Uncle Simon had said that it had just _sounded_ right. I bit down on my lip, bothering the split that was already there. Another fleeing thought crossed my mind. I was just a regular mess, wasn't I? This whole ordeal had me so flustered that I couldn't even think straight.

I stopped for just a moment in front of the fireplace. The sudden change from constant movement to standing still felt funny, my legs practically tingling from stopping. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I'd read somewhere that it was supposed to help keep a person calm, but I wasn't sure that it was working. I rubbed my temples with my thumbs. Where to start? Obviously, my first question was what they wanted with my parents. How could they be any use to them? Sure, mom was a "failed" experiment, but she hadn't caused any trouble. As far as I knew, they wouldn't only kill the experiments that had threatened something. Mom had stayed holed up in our house for the most part. And even if they were after her because she hadn't been successful, why did they have to take my dad? He'd been a werewolf, yeah, but it wasn't like he was like the werewolf packs that he'd told me and Zander about. He wasn't extremely territorial. He didn't make it a game to tear apart any wolf that crossed too close to him. He only the left the house to go to work or run errands. He really couldn't have bothered anybody.

Since that one had to stay unanswered for now, I moved on to the next one. How did they know where we were? We'd lived there for what seemed like _forever_. The only time we'd moved I'd been about four or five years old. Dad had practically driven himself insane by making sure that everything was tucked away into their rightful places. Unlike a usual parent, dad had forced Zander and me to stay _out_ of extracurricular activities. He didn't want there to be any chance that our names would be featured in the newspapers or school bulletins or _anywhere_. My parents didn't announce their wedding or our births. We stayed to ourselves. At one point, dad had even wanted to change our last name, but mom had put her foot down there. I'd heard her tell him that she'd wanted nothing more than to be a Souza, and he wasn't going to take that away. It was basically the only time I'd heard my parents argue. My mom was emotional, but she knew when to stop and let dad cool down. Dad was generally an angry person with a short fuse, but he was like putty when it came to mom. Sometimes, their little love story was so cute it was sickening. Nobody wants to think of their parents as love struck teenagers.

I still didn't have an answer for the question though. Which led to my third one: what did they want with my brother and me? We were just the two results of a marriage. Granted, it was one that wasn't _normal_. My life, in hindsight, had never been normal. My parents were always shady with their pasts and incredibly speculative of friends and neighbors. We had always been "that" family in the neighborhood, the one that everyone sort of skirts around. Dad was just so crazy when it came to keeping us safe that he pushed away nearly everyone. Even my best friend had only been to my house a total of ten times or less. But what was it that was so special about the Souza kids? I mean, we were half werewolf, half necromancer, a mix that (to my knowledge) had never existed before. But there had to be plenty of "half breeds" out in the world. My first thought went to my Aunt Tori, a witch who was happily married to a fire half-demon. They didn't have children, but if they did then they would be half breeds. There just _had_ to be people out there like me – a mix of two different supernaturals. It couldn't be completely unheard of.

Finally, I sat down on the ledge of the fireplace. I still had just as many questions as ever, and no answers had magically revealed themselves. I hugged my knees to my chest, crossed my arms and buried my face in the crook of my arms. My whole life had turned into an incredible mess. I wish that I could take some of that weird-smelling detangling spray that mom used to use on my thick hair when I was younger and just comb everything back out. It would've been _nice_ to fall back in routine. It had only been a day since everything went haywire, and I was already wishing that I could have the life I so often complained was boring back. It would've been so much easier to just sit through my classes and count down the days until I could get out of there, to hang out with Jaime on the weekends at her house or at the movies, to lie out on my bed and work through the pre-calculus homework that I'd hated so much.

Okay, maybe I wouldn't take the pre-calculus homework back. I was analytical and smart with numbers, but algebra was my forte. Pre-calculus was like a whole different world. I just wanted to plug in the numbers and make them work, and I could do that with _x, y,_ and _z_. I only wished that I could do that with the last few days.

I took a deep breath. I could smell that cologne smell that had surrounded Coe. I had no idea what it was, but it was warm and actually smelled good. I usually hated men's cologne. Zander's body spray nearly made me sick when he used too much of it. I had no idea how _he_ handled it. I wiped under my eyes to make sure that I hadn't been unconsciously crying. I would have to personally kill myself if I cried in front of anyone. It was a rule – one of my rules – that was _never_ supposed to be broken. Luckily, my eyes were dry, and I lifted my head. Coe had taken residence in one of Uncle Simon's arm chairs. He held the morning newspaper, probably turned to the sports section, but he seemed like he was having a hard time paying attention to it. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, his eyes skimming over the page.

I dropped my gaze and glanced at the large clock on the wall. It was _huge_, big enough that if the top of the curve was at the top of my head, the bottom curve would probably reach my waist or hips. The clock was big enough to hit someone with. Its hands alone could probably become some sort of twisted weapon. I chastised myself on the twisted thinking. Who thinks of clock hands as weapons? Apparently, I did. I would've liked to blame my dad, but he'd never told me to think of a clock as a weapon. He _had_ taught me, however, to look at objects and think of different ways to use them. I watched the small second hand tick around in a slow circle, the sound of the mechanisms a little loud. Of course, it could've only been me. And I guess, Coe, because his hearing had to be better than mine. He was a werewolf, after all.

That brought another wave of questions. How had my dad met Coe's father? Why had my dad become Coe's only chance? Why did he stick the werewolf boy with my uncle? And, most importantly, what was his significance to me now? It had been obvious to me that Zander and I weren't supposed to know about Coe. I couldn't even begin to understand why. I was practically a queen of secrets. Why did they not want to trust me with that little bit of information? It sure would've come in handy when I almost smacked a baseball bat into his head.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His dark hair really was a color that reminded me of chocolate. His eyes were such a bright, brilliant blue that they almost blew me away. Zander's eyes were blue, like our mother's, but they weren't nearly as stunning as Coe's were. They were sort of breathtaking, in a way. I had no doubts that if he went to my school, every single girl would've been crushing on him. He was just _that_ kind of guy. It made me wonder if he was a huge flirt, if he spent all of his free time wooing girls only to leave them behind a few days later. I could feel myself frowning so I forced my eyes away from him.

As I sat, I could feel a muscle in my cheek twitch. I was pretty sure that I was going to go _insane_ if I was stuck here with nothing to do. I wanted to know why we weren't already out there, searching for them. Uncle Simon had retreated to his studio to call Aunt Tori and grandpa, and he hadn't returned. I could only hope that he was devising some sort of plan with them, but it was killing me. I hated to be left in the dark. I was one of those people that needed to know everything, even if it didn't matter to me. Except this time, the topic of conversation was _very_ important to me.

My eyes, on their own accord, traveled back to Coe. His eyes met mine, and for a moment our gazes were locked on each other. I found myself hoping, in the back of my mind, that my eye wasn't twitching noticeably like one of those insane people on TV. Coe took a deep breath and closed the newspaper. It seemed like he was about to say something. I found myself leaning forward to catch his words, only to have them not ever said. Uncle Simon decided that very moment to step into the room. I tried not to glare at him. Uncle Simon had always seemed to have a very bad sense of timing.

"I called Tori and your grandfather." He told me. He looked down at Coe sitting in his chair, and then his eyes went to me, huddled on the fireplace. He didn't make a remark about my strange seat, even though I could tell that he wanted to. "They're hunkering down where they are for now."

"Did you guys make a plan to find my parents?" I asked. I'd been hoping, no, _praying_, that he had a plan all worked out. He'd told me before that dad had been the planner of the group, and that seemed likely to me. My dad was all about plans and lists and rules. He liked for everything to be laid out an in his place. I think that's one reason why we butted heads so much. I was the same way – I liked for things to be obvious and where they belonged, but I wanted them done on my own terms. We were both stubborn. With my eyes downcast, I tried to bite back the tears, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I never would've thought that I'd be this lost without him or my mom. My mom had been that friend-mom, the one that you could tell anything to. My dad, though, was a rock. He was the very foundation that our family was built on, and to have him ripped away was like teetering on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a bunch of pointed rocks below.

"We're working on it." Uncle Simon replied. That little jar of emotions in the back of my head seemed to be dangerously full. I wanted to jump up and slam my fists into the coffee table in front of me, maybe kick a few things around and attempt to throw one of the armchairs. Of course, I would look like an idiot, a bratty child throwing yet another temper tantrum. Instead of breaking, though, I settled for a little rude sarcasm.

"I thought the whole plan was that Zander and I would come here and you guys would figure something out." I said it with as much bite as possible. Uncle Simon gave me that look that said he wasn't pleased with my tone, but he was unsure how to say it without saying it brashly. He had to know that I was panicking inside. Dad had told me that almost the exact same thing had happened to him and Uncle Simon when they were younger. Of course, that was when "social services" had swooped in to save the day. Only later did they figure out that it was the beginning of a nightmare. At least with me, we'd had a means of escape. The feeling of being lost and not knowing what to do had to be familiar to Uncle Simon. Even though I knew that he was only keeping quiet because I was basically emotionally unstable, I couldn't help but feel like I'd won a small battle. My narrowed eyes dared him to say something me. I was scared that if he did I was snap.

"Yes, well, we are trying to come up with a plan, but there are always variables that we can't control." His voice was steady, a silent warning that I needed to watch it. I sort of wanted to take back my words, or at least, rephrase them so that they weren't so sharp. And then I told myself that it was okay to let a few pointed tones to bleed out. I was sure that I'd go crazy otherwise. "We're all waiting to see what happens next. We don't know if they just went for your parents or if they're going for all of us." He added.

Coe's eyes leveled with mine again. He seemed to understand the unrest that was in me. It sort of felt like it was part of me, but it wasn't. I couldn't really describe it. Something that was me but was separated at the same time. I didn't really like it, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I figured that it had to be a general sense that everything was falling apart. That seemed reasonable enough, and it definitely coincided with my pessimistic tendencies. I looked away from him and my uncle, unfolding myself from the fireplace.

I couldn't hold back the next words, still dripping with sarcastic disgust, "Find me when you decide to try and help me."

# # #

Zander

Uncle Simon had one of my old skateboards in his garage. It seemed like he had a lot of stuff that once belonged to me here. I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he had Coe here now. I could practically feel myself bristle at the idea of him sitting in there. He was probably giving Whitney those gooey eyes like he was earlier. It was sort of like he'd never seen a girl before.

I stepped down hard on the end of the board, the whole thing kicking up. I grabbed the top and ran my thumb over the wood that had once been grainy to keep a grip but was now worn down and smooth. I figured that I needed to take a step back from everything to pull myself together. I wasn't like Whitney, I couldn't bottle everything up. I guess there was good and bad that came from that. People seemed to think that I was impulsive, but I only acted out when I needed to. And it was safer, because I didn't want to snap later on. I'd seen Whitney snap once. It was one of the scariest things I'd ever seen in my life. It made me think that she might have a wolf in her after all.

That was the other scary thing that was running rampant through me. I'd always depended on my dad to help me. I'd always been a momma's boy when I was younger, and I still sort of was that way. But I was close to my dad, too. And he was the only one that could help me with the wolf. I'd known for a long time that while Whitney tended to be more like my mom – she had a weird obsession with death, and I figured that was because she could actually _raise_ them – I was more like my dad. I had pieces of me. I'd seen ghosts before, but only a few of them had talked to me. Apparently, my necromancer light is pretty dim. Hardly noticeable, even. But while I could see and talk to them, I'd never sent one back into its body. Whitney had. Of course, that was only on one occasion when we were younger and she'd been distraught over the death of a baby bird, but it had freaked the two of us out enough that she kept from doing it. I had tried it, though, and had found it basically impossible. But Whitney didn't have the senses I did. They were a few notches lower than a full werewolf's, but they were stronger than moms, and even Whitney's. The whole thing was that my dad and I were worried that one day, one day in the next few years, I would start to Change. Without him, I'd have no one to lead me. There was Coe in there, but I had no idea if he'd actually Changed before, and I wasn't sure that I liked him all that much.

I didn't know if it was the wolf or if it was just me being untrusting. Dad had once said that my biggest flaw was that I trusted people too much too easily. I had disagreed with him, saying that my trust had to be earned. But he was pretty close to the truth. It wasn't had to prove to me that someone was worthy. But Coe just set off my alarms. I couldn't help but feel like it was all due to the wolf, though. It didn't mind my dad unless he was being absolutely annoying, but it minded the stranger.

I twisted my board around and let it fall back to the ground. The wheels were loud on the concrete of Uncle Simon's garage. I stepped onto the board and gave a small push. I couldn't do much in the confines of the garage, but it was sort of calming to be doing something that I'd put a lot of energy into in the past. When I was younger, I'd had dreams of extreme sports. That had sort of slipped out of reach since I'd stopped riding my bike and skateboards. I used to go down to the skate park daily if I could, but now it was rare for me to even go to that side of town.

I turned the board, thinking of the fact that Coe was in there with my sister. I figured that it had to be because I was worried that he would do something to her. She was the only immediate family I had left, and I'd do anything for her. She was my sister, and she'd always stood by me when I needed her. I fought the urge to go check in on her. She was a tangled mess of emotions right now, which was not something that I wanted to deal with. She was like a pressure cooker. Eventually the lid would pop off. And I sort of didn't want to be there to see it.

So instead, I stood in the garage with my board, worrying about my sister and simultaneously thinking up images of her attacking Coe in a fit of rage.

# # #

Chloe

My head was throbbing when I woke up. It was a constant beat in my skull, like a hammer slamming into me repeatedly. I sat up a little, pressing the palms of my hands to my forehead. Slowly, I opened my eyes. The light in here was dim. The bulb on the ceiling was off, but they'd been nice enough to leave me a lantern. It was one of those plastic battery operated kinds, and the dial on it was on the lowest setting. I wondered how much battery life was left and if I was willing to plunge myself into darkness to save as much of the batteries as I could.

I decided to leave it on. I'd never really liked to dark, and my dislike of it had only gotten stronger when I'd discovered I was a necromancer. There are a countless amount of ghosts that like to pick on necromancers when they get the chance. It didn't make much sense, really. There was a very few number of people that could really see and talk to ghosts, and instead of sending out missives, they were playing jokes. Derek had always teased me about it in his joking way, but deep down he'd understood my reasoning.

I took a deep breath, thinking about my husband. He was still as good-looking as he had been when we were teenagers. He still had his black hair, which both of our kids had inherited, and his green eyes were still as bright as ever. I closed my eyes and pictured him in my head. Maybe I could keep myself calm by thinking of him. He'd been the one person I could trust with anything for a long time. Hopefully, just his thought could keep me in a good state of mind. He had to be close. If I was here, then I expected their other prisoner's rooms to be nearby. I'd called out to Derek on a whim when they'd tied me up. By the look on this Watson man's face, I'd been right in assuming that he was nearby. Of course, he could've been using my screams as a means of torture for Derek. A long time ago, he'd told me that I was his mate, the one and only girl in his life. Hearing me in pain must tear him apart inside. It's everything that his wolf fights against.

My thoughts wondered from the love of my life to my kids. Where were they? I didn't think that Watson had them. He'd asked me where they were, not where they _had_ been. It was a single word, but it could change a lot in a sentence. I was hoping that it meant that the two of them were still out there. Hopefully, they'd found Derek's note and had followed the plan. I had no idea how long I'd been out, but I figured it was safe to assume that they were in the safety of Simon's house. Now all I could do was hope that the man who had become my brother over the years would be able to keep them safe when Derek and I couldn't.

I worried about the two of them so much. I worried that Zander would start his Changes and he wouldn't have Derek to help him through it. Of course, _I'd_ been the one to help Derek. If it came down to it, I was sure that Whitney would help her brother. But she didn't have the knowledge that Derek had. And then there was my worry about Whitney. It had been clear that Zander was able to see and talk to ghosts, but he'd never been able to do anything else. Whitney was like me – her necromancer powers were based off her emotions, and they were a good degree stronger than what a normal necromancer's would have been. Granted, she was not as off-the-wall powerful as I was, but that was probably for the better. My abilities had gotten me into trouble more than once. But my worry with her wasn't what would happen with her when it came to the dead. She was strong, like Derek, but if she was pushed around too much she cracked under the pressure. I hoped that she would be able to let it go this time. And then there was always that worry that she would take after Derek after all, that there would be some sort of Change that affected her. I wasn't sure she'd be able to handle it.

"_You_."

It was only a single word, but it was enough to make my eyes open. It was just a whisper, like it was coming from all around me. I sat up and glanced around my small cell. The darkest corners of the cell danced with shadows, and I held back the childish urge to believe something was hiding under the cot I was lying on.

"Here," The voice called out to me. It knew that I was looking for it. And hearing it twice definitely meant that it couldn't be my imagination. Had a ghost found me? Could I get it to do my bidding? I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up shakily.

"Where are you?" I asked quietly. "I can't see you?"

"Blocked… room…." It said.

"Are you blocked from the room?" I asked, a little louder this time. It reminded me of all those years ago, when I'd seen a hand down in the basement of the Lyle House. It had been beckoning me into the crawl space. It had been that very crawl space where Tori had first gotten up close and personal with me – cracking me over the head with a brick before tying me up – and it had been the place that I'd discovered that whatever was going on with me, with the other group home members, wasn't as harmless as it seemed.

"Yes," It hissed. I could tell that there were other words. "Trying… partly…."

"Can you get partly in? Please try, please." I begged it. I focused on the voice, trying to imagine where it would be. If it was blocked from my room, I could assume that it was blocked in the other rooms, and possibly in the rest of the building. That meant that it's only way to get in was from one of the walls as long as one of them connected to outside, or the ceiling. My eyes scanned the walls of my cell. I didn't see anything.

I glanced up at the ceiling. There, hanging from the middle, where the wire of the bulb was attached, was a ghostly hand, fingers wiggling back and forth as the rest of the body tried to come through.

**I feel like it's been such a long time since I've updated this! In this chapter, as you can tell, I've decided to do a little searching in the emotions of my characters. Also, I needed a sort of cliffhanger, and Chloe gave me the perfect outlet for that. (:**

**Don't forget to leave me a review. Both comments and criticism is accepted, so please do leave me one! Also, Favorite if you haven't already. Please look at my other stories, and if you could do yet another favor for me, spread the word of the story! I would really love to see as many people as possibly read it. I've never written anything from the multiple-characters POV angle, so I'd really like to see how that's working out for a range of people.**

**Once again, thanks for reading, and I'm sorry in advance for any spelling/grammatical problems! Peace (:**


	6. Studio BreakIn

**Crixtine – Great questions and I'll do my best to answer them. I thought about answering these in a PM, but I would like to have everyone see it so they could understand the story better. 1) Zander is in the garage because while he's more the emotional kind, he's a pretty proud guy. He doesn't want anyone to see him upset in any way (especially not his sister.) I'm not saying that Zander is crying or anything, he just… needed to get away from everyone. It's sort of like that alone time that you crave. Also, he can't go outside to ride his skateboard because he's trying to stay hidden and pretend like he's not actually at Simon's house. 2) This is where it gets complicated. Not only am I experimenting with multiple POVs, I'm also experimenting with creating a character that is less than perfect. What I mean is that, while characters in most books have their flaws, they are very rarely something so dramatic or damaging. I want my readers to look at Whitney as a character that they have fallen in love with, but also a character that is plagued by more than one problem. She's a character that I want people to love and hate simultaneously (but love a little more, obviously.) I think that makes for a rounded character. As for a glimpse into Whitney's psyche… she's broken. She's just lost her parents and has the feeling of being the sole provider for her little brother. But she's also like her father with her short-fused anger. Instead of reacting to it, though, she hides it away, siphoning little pieces of it out in sarcastic or rude remarks. But if she's not careful, it explodes, and it's like she has a mental breakdown. She is **_**not**_**, in any way, insane. She's perfectly fine in the head, but it's just the result of emotional turmoil. Zander is partly afraid when this happens, but not of her. He's afraid **_**for**_** her, because it hurts him to see his sister, who he views as such a strong, independent person, spinning out of control. And it makes him feel like he's useless because he can't help her. 3) Zander, at this point, is not very fond of Coe. I'm working to point out that this distaste of character is because Zander's wolf is not very fond of Coe's wolf at the time being. And Zander trusts that his sister will be able to handle herself in a fight if things get out of hand. He is also aware of the fact that his uncle is in the house for extra protection. [**It's a pretty deep and ridiculously long answer(s), but I hope that's what you're looking for. I promise to try to make the chapter extra-long to make up for this rant. And I'll probably be explaining this again in the chapter, if I can find a way to clear it up.] And, as for your prediction skills… dang, you're good.**

**Emo's Love – Ha! I don't think that'll happen quite yet, if it does. (; But it's a cute guess. Plus, it would be fun to see Zander all riled up.**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_6: Studio Break-In_

Simon

I watched Whitney walk away. Coe was silent in his chair, his eyes focused on the paper, but I could tell that he wasn't reading it. I knew that he'd seen what had just happened. She was on the verge of a breakdown, brought on by her parents' disappearance. I knew the feeling, that sudden sense of desolation and wondering what was going to happen next.

I moved to sit in the other armchair in the house. There was a tall lamp on the small table that separated our two chairs. I leaned forward in my seat, hands clasped together between my knees. I stared down at the carpet for a little while, forming the explanation in my head. Whitney was a complex person, more complex than the average human being. Her mind was laid out for everyone to see, yet there was a mystery to it that could not be matched. She was truly a conundrum. I sort of felt sorry for any man that decided to pursue her. Finally, after a moment, I said, "Coe?"

He set the paper down in his lap. I caught a glimpse at the head title. Slightly amused, I couldn't hold back the smile. He wasn't even reading anything. It was the sectioned paper of the ads, along with a few obituaries of people that he'd never met. I had the feeling that he'd been pretending, knowing that he could sit in here and look perfectly normal while secretly keeping an eye on Whitney. I had a feeling that was just the thing that Derek had wanted to avoid. He'd throw a fit if his little girl was growing up. Coe started to fold and smooth the edges of the paper.

"I know she seems a little… rude. Don't get me wrong, she can be a total monster." I couldn't help but grin, thinking of her as a little girl, speaking her mind despite the fact that she was supposed to be behaving. "But Whitney's… she's deeper than that. She's more like a puzzle than anyone else I've ever met. Even _my_ sister can't compare to her. And Tori had been the biggest witch, irony intended, of all time. But here's the thing with her: Think about it. Her father is a werewolf, like you. He's overprotective, impatient, analytic, and flat out bossy when he wants to be. Whitney's grown up in his shadow, because that's the parent she identifies with in personality. But in actuality, she's gifted like her mother, with necromancer abilities." His eyes grew wide. Coe had never known that Derek was married to a necromancer. "And when you're a necromancer, no matter how much of it you are, you're surrounded by death. She deals with it by pushing away _everything_ else." I told him.

"I think Whitney is the way she is because her actions don't coincide with her personal beliefs. She wants to fit everything away into little labeled boxes and have everything tucked away into their files. She wants for people to act and react to a certain thing in a certain way. But that's impossible. Nothing ever fits perfectly, and it causes her anxiety. And her anxiety turns into frustration and anger. Only once has Whitney ever had an emotional breakdown. She's sane, don't get me wrong, but she tries her hardest to get things the way she likes them only to have them torn apart later. People often say that Zander trusts people too easily, but Whitney doesn't trust enough. She puts a lot of pressure on herself to get things done, and she believes that only she can get it done the right way. It's nearly impossible for her to hand off the job to someone else when she thinks she can handle it. And she tends to overload her plate, which just causes her more stress in the end."

"So, you think she's going to freak out again?" Coe asked.

"I hope not. But I'm just forewarning you that Whitney is _not_ a go-with-the-flow kind of person. She needs order and restraint and sense of authority. She's not someone that can easily be brushed aside." I told him, narrowing my eyes at him. "And that, along with the fact that Derek would personally kill you if you ever hurt Whitney, is why I'm asking you to think about your actions with her." Coe looked a little flustered. Apparently, he thought he was a lot smoother than he actually was. "Yeah, I saw you watching her. Pretending to read the paper…." I pretended to be disgusted by his actions, and Coe refused to meet my gaze. "But seriously, Coe. Tread lightly."

He nodded. I sat there for a moment longer, trying to come up with something more to say. Whitney wasn't just a girl that would fall head over heels for him. She wasn't the type that could hold a conversation without a sense of her biting sarcasm, unlike Chloe's soft words. She took fully after Derek, but she was sometimes worse off than he had been. I didn't believe that it would be possible, but Whitney had proved me wrong.

Coe stayed in his seat. He didn't look up at me. I figured that I'd embarrassed the kid enough. I'd explained my niece's strange behavior and told him to watch his step around her. If he was truly interested in her, and she in him, then they deserved the right to try a relationship. But he needed to understand that Whitney was a special kind of girl that needed to be handled with care. She was fragile, no matter how strong she tried to be. And if Coe ended up hurting her at all, Derek would have his head delivered on a silver platter. At least I'd warned him the dangers of tying himself to Whitney at all. It was the least I could do. I watched him for a little bit longer. Maybe he would be a good match for Whitney. He was the calm to her storm, like Chloe was to Derek. My brother and sister-in-law had to be a match made in Heaven. They balanced each other out. I could only hope that Whitney would find someone to offset that emotionally confused part of her.

Finally, I stood up from my chair. Whitney had disappeared, probably to the bedroom she was stuck sharing with Zander. And as for her brother, I had no idea where he could be. I figured that I should find him, though. Zander had that type of soothing touch that Whitney seemed to need. Plus, Zander knew her, and she trusted him.

# # #

Zander

Uncle Simon opened up the door to the garage. I turned my board, pulling it to a stop. He looked a little amused to find me in here, but where else was I supposed to go to get some peace and quiet? I couldn't go outside in case the house was under surveillance or if any of the neighbors decided to be snoopy. The room I shared with Whitney was a no-go, because when she got tired of pacing in the living room, she would go there. Coe was either in the living room or the kitchen, watching my sister with what I'd decided were wolf eyes. And Uncle Simon could be anywhere, including his studio, which was off-limits to me.

"Whitney's gone back to the bedroom," Uncle Simon said. He looked around the room, the expression of his face telling me that he was thinking about the past. It was funny, how much stuff that had once belonged to me and Whitney that he'd kept over the years. "She's… she's not in a good mood."

I shrugged. Whitney in a good mood was rare. She was always thinking about _something_ that had gone wrong. She could push it away and pretend like she was just fine, but I knew that deep down inside, she was worrying over something. That was Whitney's thing. She worried over everything and everyone. She seemed to think that nothing was ever safe. Outside of our family, she assumed that everyone was to be treated as if they were dangerous until they proved otherwise. She was almost like a copy of our dad, which got on my nerves more often than not.

It wasn't that I didn't like my dad. He was great, when he decided that we were safe for the time being. Otherwise, he was sort of overbearing when it came to safety and precautions and rules. Whitney _liked_ the rigidity of everything. She was an organized type of person, and was always acting the backbone of the rules. Only when she didn't agree with them did she break them, and when that happened it was practically like another World War in our household. My sister was a force to be reckoned with, and I didn't want to be the thing billowing around in the tornado winds she caused.

"Well," Uncle Simon said, stepping into the garage. He sat down on an empty cooler. I pushed my board forward a little bit, rolling around the tiny empty area. The wheels crackled on the dirt on the concrete floor. "I know we need to come up with a plan, but I don't know where to start. We don't know who took your parents, we don't know who was in the van that followed you guys, and even if it was the EG, we don't know who is in charge anymore." He leaned back on the cooler and looked at me, as if maybe I could give him some advice.

"I'm not my dad," I told him after a moment. "I'm bad at making plans." I added. It was true. I was the most impulsive person in the family. When I was younger, I'd broken my wrist trying to do a new trick on my skateboard. In hindsight, I'd realized that the whole thing was a stupid idea. The ramp was homemade, I'd never tried the trick before, and I'd attempted it in the middle of the street. Of course, I hadn't thought about the consequences of being stupid at the time.

Uncle Simon watched me for a moment. I always felt like he was the type of person that really looked into a person's behaviors and tried to figure out what was behind them. He would've been a good psychologist. He was always watching us, anyway, and it seemed like he analyzed our words. "Can you tell me anything about the men in the van?"

I shrugged again. "I didn't get a good look at them. First they were behind a tinted windshield, and then they were down a cliff, and there were only a few seconds from the time that guy crawled out the window and the explosion." Uncle Simon nodded even though he didn't get any new information from me. I didn't know what I was supposed to do to help him. He didn't say anything, and so I finally told him exactly what I'd been thinking about for the last few minutes. "If you don't come up with a good plan soon, Whitney will think up one for herself." I warned him.

Uncle Simon nodded. "That's what I'm afraid of. She doesn't know what she's up against."

I sighed and stopped the board. I stepped off of it and kicked it into the shadowed corner of the garage. "I'll find her." I said. "But I can't promise you that she won't take matters into her own hands."

Uncle Simon nodded as I stepped past. I went to go find my sister. My sister, who was super emotional, but strong and smart and able. As I stepped into the house, I peeked into the living room. Coe was seated in a chair, folding newspaper sheets into boats and hats. I made a face and turned down the other way. I didn't put it past my sister to already have a plan forming.

# # #

Whitney

Where to start? I had no clue who had decided to break into my house and kidnap my parents. I had no idea who had tried to stop me and Zander in their van. The only thing that I could get from Uncle Simon is that the Edison Group was the only people who had really chased them before. That was the group that had been in charge of the experiment my parents were in, so I figured that they were the only people that would really want them back.

I stood there for a moment, staring at my cell phone. I was wondering if it would say where I was if I got onto the internet. But then again, the phones could be tracked if they were turned on. I'd had my phone off since the moment we'd left the house, and I'd made Zander turn his off, too. Now they were useless to us – hunks of plastic and technology. I left my phone on the desk and turned to the doorway. I knew Uncle Simon had a computer in here, his laptop. I figured that it was either in his bedroom or in his studio. I'd put money down, though, that the computer was in his studio. It just seemed more logical. I bit down on my lip and sat down on the edge of the bed. Uncle Simon's studio was off-limits, and it had been for as long as I could remember. I doubted that, since we were older, he'd removed the rule against going in there. But in this case, finding my parents was more important than a precious back bedroom.

I slipped out of the bedroom I shared with Zander. It now made sudden sense that Uncle Simon hadn't split the two of us up. I figured that Coe slept in the other guest bedroom, which was right next door. I glanced at the door, which was opened just a crack. I wanted to peer in and see if that's where the strange werewolf had set up shop, but I didn't want to get caught looking in there when there were more important places for me to be. I ignored the pull of curiosity and turned down the next hallway, pausing to peek into the kitchen. Zander and Uncle Simon were coming in from the garage, by the sound of it. Quickly, I moved past the open kitchen doorway and down towards Uncle Simon's bedroom. He'd converted some attic space into his studio, the stairs to which were right next to his bedroom door.

I pushed open the master bedroom door. Uncle Simon was a pretty neat person, for a guy. He wasn't as bad as dad was, but his room wasn't covered in dirty clothes or empty plates, like Zander's room at home. I pushed my way in and closed the door behind me as softly as I could. I figured that it would be safe to just scan the room for the computer. I checked his desk and his bed, but the computer was nowhere in sight. Confident that it was in the studio, I pressed myself to the doorway and listened, ears straining. Sometimes, when I _really_ counted on my senses to pick things up, I could. I closed my eyes and tried my hardest. I could hear the sound of people in the kitchen – a cup on the counter, silverware in the drawer – and there was the distinct sound of ruffling pages. They were all far off, so I figured it was safe. I slipped out of Uncle Simon's bedroom and headed for the closed door at the end of the hall. Quietly, I pulled it open and hit the light switch just inside. It was a staircase leading up. That was all I could see from my position at the bottom of the stairs. I closed the attic door behind me and started up the steps.

I'd never been in Uncle Simon's studio before. It had always been off-limits, and that meant that I couldn't even come up here when I was with him. As I reached the top of the stairs, my hand hit something hanging from the ceiling. I jumped, my mind immediately going to a ghost. A ghost had once told me that my necromancer light was fairly good in brightness, while mom's was off the charts and Zander's was extremely dim. But even though I was "average," ghosts hadn't bothered me much. My mother attested it to a stone she'd claimed dimmed my light. It was set in the ring I wore on my right pinky finger. Realizing that it wasn't a ghost, I reached out for whatever had touched me. With the shadow from the bare bulb below me, I could see that it was a cord. I gave it a tug, and bright lights snapped on.

Uncle Simon's studio was just as meticulously clean as his bedroom was. There were still some things that _I_ would've picked up or moved around, but otherwise it was fine. He had several drawing easels set up, large sketch pads open to pages, some blank, some drawn in. Each easel had a handful of color pencils and a tiny handheld pencil sharpener. I walked up to one of them and looked down at a colored drawing of Coe. It was drawn in a strange style, partly anime, partly realistic. Only half of the picture was colored in, but Uncle Simon had gotten his hair just right, and it was obvious he'd used several shades of blue for his eyes.

I was distracted for just a moment, but it didn't take me long to remember what I was here for. I needed Uncle Simon's laptop. It was sitting open on the desk. I thought about taking it out of the studio and down the stairs with me, but he would know I'd been up here if he saw me downstairs with it, or if I didn't manage to get it back up before he came up here, I'd be busted. Carefully, I pulled out the chair and sat down, hitting the power button. The computed wheezed as it loaded, and I found myself starting to shush it. I wouldn't be worried, but there was a full-blooded werewolf downstairs, along with my half-werewolf brother, and an uncle that seemed to know when things were going on. I drummed my fingers on the flat wooden top of the desk, waiting for the computer.

Finally, it loaded with a little musical tune that made me wince. Luckily, it didn't ask me for a password. I quickly clicked on the internet link and had to wait for it to load. Apparently, Uncle Simon hadn't invested in the fastest running internet server. As I waited for the page to open, I looked up at the bookcase. Most of the books were something that a cartoonist would enjoy. But there was one of them, in the middle of the bottom shelf, that stuck out. It was bound with a ribbon that seemed to be encrusted with dirt. I reached out to touch it, my fingers running down the edge of the spine. I carefully pulled it out, my curiosity getting the better of me.

The front page was obviously drawn by Uncle Simon. It was a group of teenagers standing together. A small blonde held on to a large guy with too-long black hair. She was smiling out of the page, and underneath his hair, the guy was smiling too. A girl with black hair stood off to the side, looking bored. A blonde kid with spiky hair was glaring at the girl with black hair. They were in full color and thickly defined. Everything behind them was drawn and colored lightly – a girl with blonde hair and a bright, optimistic smile; the hint of a wolf, its muzzle surrounded by the glow of the moon; a man that looked like my grandfather with black hair. My eyebrows drew together just looking at it. I ran my hand over the front, and then opened up the page.

The first thing I saw was a list of names – _Simon Bae, Derek Souza, Chloe Saunders, Tori Enright_. I stood there, shocked at seeing my parents' and aunt and uncle's names written on the page. It suddenly made sense, the cover of the book. It was _them_ when they had been my age. I pulled went to flip to the next page, but the internet on Uncle Simon's computer flashed at me. Reluctantly, I closed the book and readjusted my seat. I quickly turned the webpage to a search engine, glad that it was faster when loading other pages than it had been when it opened. The page loaded, and I typed in _Edison Group_ into the search bar. The mouse spun in a blue circle while it loaded the page. Finally, it pulled up the results. I made a face at the top results – they were all companies, some of them even electricity companies. I knew that I shouldn't put too much hope on the fact that they'd have a webpage with their name and address, but it had been the only thing that I'd had to go on before. It was a dead end.

Annoyed, I closed the web browser and shut down the computer. My adventure up to Uncle Simon's studio had proved to be worthless… except for the book. I knew now that it had to have something to do with my parents. With them lost and no ideas to go off of, I craved to know _something_ about them, even if it was just their past. It called to me. My parents had never been very forthcoming with their pasts. I'd just known that they were chased down and constantly getting into trouble, but the details had been left in shadow. And here was my chance, sitting right in front of me. I wondered if Uncle Simon would notice if the book was missing. I wondered if I would be able to make my way back up so I could read it. This was just a stroke of luck, I realized. With the way that I'd been acting, Uncle Simon was bound to be watching me as closely as he could.

And I wanted to _know_.

It was the most impulsive thing I'd ever done. Zander might have actually been proud of me as I took the book and hid it under my shirt, the pages pressed against the skin of my stomach. With the laptop shut down and the place looking nearly pristine – except for the missing colored ribbon in the bookshelf, which looked like a glowing beacon to me – it was just the way it was when I came in. I headed for the stairs, stopping to pull the light bulb chain before going down the steps. I leaned against the doorway just like I'd done before exiting Uncle Simon's bedroom. When I was sure that the coast was clear, I turned off the light switch, plunging myself into darkness for half a second before pushing open the bedroom door. I closed it behind me and lingered in the hallway for a moment, trying to plan out my path to my bedroom.

Eventually, I decided to just go for it. It was going to be the only way I was going to be able to get there. I double-checked to make sure that the book was well-hidden under my T-shirt, and then stepped past the kitchen. I almost made it, too, but Zander called out to me. He had been sitting at the bar, looking down at the counter. Uncle Simon had his back to me, standing at the stove. I couldn't see Coe anywhere, but by the sounds of paper coming from the living room, I would guess that he was in there.

"Whitney! Where have you been?" Zander asked me. I stood there frozen for a moment, racking my brains for an excuse. Why hadn't I thought of one earlier? It had to be because I was freaking out about sneaking the book. Otherwise, I would've thought of something. I _always_ planned ahead.

"Um, I was just… outside," I said. The only way for me to be outside was for me to go through Uncle Simon's bedroom to the little patio he had. It was fenced off from the rest of his backyard, but it wouldn't matter. It was a fence that I could climb over easily if I focused on it. Uncle Simon used to say that he installed it so people trying to break it would have to climb over it and make noise doing so.

"Outside?" Uncle Simon repeated, his eyebrows furrowed together as he looked up at me.

"Yeah, I needed some air." I said, continuing down the hallway. The bedroom that I shared with Zander was just in sight. Quickly, I pushed open the door and closed it soundly behind me. I had to find a place to hide the book. Finally, I figured that the only place that the guys _wouldn't_ go digging around in was my duffel bag. I moved an array of clothes and socks aside, slipping the book into the bottom, cushioning it with a few bits of clothes before dumping everything else over it. I let out a breath. Even though I didn't have a plan yet, at least there was _something_ nearby that could tell me more about my parents. And maybe it would give me a little information about the Edison Group, too. It seemed like the book was my only hope… for now.

# # #

Chloe

The hand wiggled around, trying to find its way in. Clearly, the ceiling was the only way for it to get in. I wished that I could help it. For some reason, I figured that it would help if I were closer to it. I carefully stood on the bed, my balance wavering. My head still hurt from whatever that guy had hit me with. I touched my head tenderly, wincing at the matted, dried blood in my hair. It made my head hurt all the more.

"Please, try," I whispered to the ghost. Its hand started waving faster, as if it had heard me. It seemed like the hand was slowly coming in a little farther. Within a minute, there was an entire arm dangling from the ceiling. I thought that it looked like there was something familiar with the sleeve that was hanging through. If that wasn't weird enough, with a slight scream that echoed through my ears, the ghost fell through the ceiling, spinning around in the air, the bare bulb shooting through its body. It barely managed to catch itself before it hit the ground. I didn't know if a fall like that would hurt in the afterlife, but it was strange enough to see the ghost floating from the ground.

The ghost was decidedly a girl, her blonde hair hanging over her shoulder, just barely touching the floor. Recognition hit me like a train. It had been _years_ since I'd seen this particular ghost. She was supposed to be searching for a way out. At least, that's what she'd told me. She wasn't sure if she was actually going to take it, but she wanted to know that there _was_ a way to get out of limbo. And now, here she was, floating a few inches off the floor of my cell. She was wearing the same thing she'd worn when she died, from the Minnie Mouse pajamas to the crazy socks on her feet.

"Liz?" I breathed.

# # #

Coe

Simon stood at the stove, stirring a large pot of spaghetti. It was more than double of what he usually made, which meant that he'd had to boil a few packages. I was always eating, something that he said his brother had always done. I guess with Zander and Whitney, two half-werewolves, here, the meal order would grow. I found myself wondering if Whitney was going to be one of those girls that pretended like they ate nothing in the presence of other people.

Zander was sitting at the counter, staring down at a sheet of paper in front of him. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't get the chance to look at it as I passed, but he was focused on it like his life depended on it. Simon left the stove for a second to dig a large strainer out of the cabinet. Steam filled the air as he poured the pot into the strainer over the sink. I opened up the fridge and pulled out a can of soda. "You guys want anything?" I asked, holding up my can.

Simon said no, his back still to me. My eyes traveled to Zander. He was looking up at me, and he definitely didn't seem pleased. I didn't know what I'd done to him, or why he didn't like me. The most I could assume was that his wolf, which _had_ to be in him somewhere, wasn't very happy about the fact that I was here. Whitney and Zander had wanted a safe location when they'd come here, and instead they'd found me, another hideout from my own kind. I took Zander's steely silence as a no, forcing myself not to get into any defensive mode with him. I hadn't begun any Changes yet, but I knew there was a wolf in me, that it was stirring.

The moment they'd crossed the threshold, I'd been on high-alert. The wolf wanted to claim this area as his territory, but my human brain was able to trump that. Of course, it didn't mean that it was gone, it was just pushed away. It was like dealing with a snake – looking at it in the eye, knowing that it wanted to get the best of the situation, and I was standing there, trying to figure out how to get around it. I popped the tab on my soda and took a drink. My throat burned with the carbonation of it, and I glanced away from Zander.

I took a deep breath before reaching for the bowls. I pulled four of them out, opening the silverware drawer and dropping a fork into each one. Zander slid off the barstool, and I heard him take the long way around the kitchen. There was a creak of one of the doors opening, and I found myself straining my ears to hear what he said. He was just telling Whitney that dinner was ready. I couldn't hear her reply, but I did hear the sound of them moving around, back towards the kitchen. Zander kept a wide berth around me, probably feeling the same thing I did, but Whitney stepped right up and picked up a bowl, brushing past me without saying a word or meeting my eyes.

And the crazy thing was that, even though I'd seen her for the first time this morning, I found myself wanting to get to know her better. There were girls in the past that had bothered me to no end, batting their eyelashes at me and touching my arms. One of them even brushed a hand through my hair. Sure, they'd been pretty, but I'd never been _interested_ in them. There was never a need to get to know them. Of course, that had been before I'd been kicked out of the Pack, but still. Now that I was staying out of the public eye as much as possible, there weren't that many girls trying to get me to notice them. But I didn't miss it. I didn't _want_ for their attention.

But I wanted for Whitney Souza's, and that was a miracle in itself.

**Okay, I can **_**promise**_** you that this chapter is longer to make up for the ridiculous opening, and I decided to give Coe a voice for the first time. Yay! Please leave me a review of what you thought!**

**And please, please, **_**please**_** spread the word of this story. I'm really enjoying writing it, and I'd like to see as many people read and review it as possible. It makes me all happy. Haha! Peace (:**


	7. Book of the Past

**Unfortunately, I've decided to discontinue this story for reasons unknown to you all… just kidding! Happy April Fool's day! (Yes, I know it was lame, but still.)**

**Crying Silently – Nah, you'll have to take a rain check on the making out. Haha (: You'll have to wait and see if things work out for them….**

**Crixtine – Aww, your review seriously made my day. (: It's good to know that someone's enjoying your writings. And I must say, you certainly are good at your predictions. Yes, Derek is going to say a little piece in this chapter. And as for **_**After the End**_**, I'm glad to know that you want to read more! I promise that I am working on the next chapter. It's laying down those final pieces of information for the mystery to be solved that's getting me. Thanks for the incentive to finish that. :3**

**Nevaeh717 – Haha, thank you! Yes, I agree that the opening is a little slow, but I like it. Thanks for continuing to read! (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_7: Book of the Past_

Whitney

I sat in the small beanbag Uncle Simon had gotten for us when we were younger. It was now set in the far corner of the bedroom I shared with Zander. I'd grabbed the thick quilt from my bed and a flashlight. For the past hour, I'd waited for Zander to fall asleep. Now that I was sure that he wasn't about to wake up, I settled into my seat and flipped open the book, pulling my knees a little closer to my chest.

The first page showed Uncle Simon and dad standing at the front of a house. It looked a little old and worn down, a regular Victorian styled home. I assumed that Uncle Simon had written _Lyle House_ underneath the picture. I ran my fingers over his script. Could that be another lead to find my parents? I didn't think that there was much to go on from it, but it was _something_. It was another name that wouldn't be hard to type in a search engine box. The next picture showed a rather large-set nurse, the inside of what had to be the Lyle House, and what looked to be Aunt Tori. Aunt Tori looked a little starry-eyed, but a little annoyed, too. It wouldn't surprise me. She'd been like me, sort of – cynical, and always thinking that people were going to do their worst. But that had been before she met Rick, her husband. Now she what dad called "greatly improved."

I flipped to the next page, where he spent a few pictures and words that told me what was going on. It didn't exactly sound like something Uncle Simon would've written. It sort of reminded me of the type of tone my mom's screenplays had when she had written them down on the legal pad that was kept in one of the kitchen drawers. Now that I thought about it, I wished that I had grabbed it and brought it with me, if only to have something that was so completely _her_. Still, the artwork was obviously Uncle Simon's. That coupled with the sentences told the story of Uncle Simon and dad, how my uncle had strived to be able to do _something_ with his sorcerer powers. It showed a clip of the past of my father, sitting in a room with a few other scruffy-looking boys before showing him arriving at the house my uncle had lived at with my grandfather. There was his addition into the family, and then a brief period of them growing up. Suddenly, the pages turned to the beginning for my mom – a shadowy ghost. It looked like it had been a custodian or something. It seemed like half of his face had been burned or melted off, and that made me shiver. If that was her first supernatural experience, then she had the right to be scared out of her mind.

The book continued to show what had happened to them – the attraction between mom and Uncle Simon, which was so freaky that I stared at the page blankly for a moment. It was actually kind of creepy, honestly. Still, I managed to get past that little bit, reading on into how they discovered mom's necromancer abilities to their big breakout plan. I read the part where mom had unknowingly come upon dad while he was in the midst of a Change, and how instead of running away, she stayed by his side. I read on, my eyes scanning over the pages as I took in their breakout, the way they got separated, how mom and her friend, Rae, were sent back. It showed how she managed to get out with Aunt Tori, and how the two of them had been forced to work together to find their way to dad and Uncle Simon. From there, they went on a whirlwind adventure – dad had multiple Changes, they were constantly getting chased after, and it seemed like mom got into a lot more trouble than everyone else.

I was so wrapped up in it that by time I reached the end, it was nearly dawn. My eyelids were heavy. I rubbed my fists over my eyes tiredly. It had been quite a story, really. They'd discovered that they were experiments, mom had slowly become friends with Aunt Tori, and then there was that little love story between my parents which had lasted decades. It really was something that somebody could've printed out and pretended that it was a fiction novel. It would've really been a hit. And it was crazy that I could sit there and know that it was all true.

Tiredly, I got up from the beanbag chair and drug my quilt over to my bed. I took the book and tucked it into my duffel bag, surrounded by socks and shirts to keep it protected. I was so tired that I just collapsed on my mattress, pulling my quilt up to my chin. Of course, the story had been intriguing, but it hadn't really given me much information. I had a few new points to look up – Cabals, Cains, St. Clouds, and the Lyle House – but other than that, I was back to square one. At least I'd been able to pull _something_ besides entertainment from the story. Now all I had to do was figure out how to sneak back up to Uncle Simon's studio to research them. It was starting to look like it was going to be a lot harder to _plan_ a plan than it was going to be to execute it. I sort of hoped that it was true.

# # #

I was only partly aware that I was dreaming. Still, I t didn't mean that I wasn't panicked when my body started to contort, my arms and legs shortening, my face elongating. It was sort of painful, really, my bones rearranging and fur sprouting along my skin before retracting, my nails growing excruciatingly long while my whole body Changed from one form to another. I was shivering and shaking, my whole body aching. Within seconds, I was running around a clearing, my brain searching for _something_ to chase. It didn't take long for me to find someone who looked strangely like Coe. I took off after him, running a lot faster and quieter than he did. Within seconds, I was biting at his heels. He turned to look at me, and his face flashed from Coe's to my father's. I tried to backpedal, and the moment I landed on him, I was whisked away into a dark room. I was back to my human form, stuck in what felt like a dungeon of some sort. I pushed my hands against the walls, calling out for someone, anyone, to let me out. White misty hands started coming through the walls, reaching out to grab me. As they moved closer, skeletal faces emerged with them. I screamed, running away. There wasn't a safe place to go, though, because they were coming out of all the walls, reaching out for me. They moved across the floor and the ceiling, coming closer to me. I tripped trying to jump away from misty skeletal fingers and somehow tripped myself. The fall jarred me, and instead of doing something, I just curled up into a ball.

"Whitney," They said, their jaws clacking together. I heard myself whimpering as a weird but familiar shaky feeling came over me. It was like the first part of my dream, where I'd been transforming. They called my name again, hard, sharp fingers pressing into my skin.

"Whitney!" I jerked awake, nearly banging my forehead with Zander's. He pulled back and gave me a confused look. I sat there for a moment, assessing where I was and how I was feeling. Now that I was staring at my brother, I realized that it had been just a dream. I was perfectly fine. There were no ghosts coming to get me, and I definitely hadn't _Changed_. That was Zander's expected future, not mine. Dad had theorized over and over that I was too much like my mom. If I ever did have to fully shift into a wolf, I would be one crappy wolf. My senses would be shot, and my sense of pack loyalty would be practically nonexistent. I wasn't the personable one in the family, Zander was. Out of all of us, Zander and sometimes dad had been the only ones that really craved harmony in the household. Of course, I'd always wanted it, but it wasn't like I couldn't live without it.

"What's going on?" I asked tiredly. I was practically in a cold sweat, my hair sticking to the back of my neck. My head felt a little light, too.

"You were having some sort of weird nightmare." Zander told me. He was already dressed for the day. I blinked tiredly, a little shocked to see him up and ready this early in the morning. I glanced over at the clock. I had to take a double take because at first I thought that it couldn't be right, but it was nearly one in the afternoon. I scrambled up and out of bed. I couldn't believe that I'd spent my day sleeping when what I really needed to be doing was formulating a plan. First, I had to get back into Uncle Simon's studio. Of course, I could've just asked for the use of his laptop, but I didn't want him to tell me no, and I definitely didn't want him looking over my shoulder. It would be easier in the long run if I just handled it myself. It seemed like that was always the answer nowadays.

"I'm fine." I said sharply, digging around in my duffel bag for clean clothes. I needed to go take a shower, and it wasn't like I was about to go parading around the house with just a towel wrapped around me, especially when I was the only girl around here. Zander stood over my shoulder, which I found incredibly annoying. I stood up briefly and pushed him back. He stumbled over his shoes and I grabbed the last of my clean clothes and headed for the bedroom door.

I quickly ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I turned on the hot water and paused to look in the mirror over the bathroom sink. My dream had just been a dream, right? But it had sort of seemed like more. It was like I was mixing up my parents' pasts with me – half werewolf, half necromancer, basically alone in the world. Yes, I had a brother in the other room that was half and half like me, but we weren't really half and half were we? He would never know the weirdness of having heightened senses but them still not being very good or image of a body superimposed in the mind. I shook my head and took a quick shower.

I changed into my clean clothes and gathered everything in my arms to take back to my bedroom. I opened the door and nearly ran right into Coe. He glanced at me and then gave me a once over. I wrinkled my nose at him, and he gave me a sly smile in return before heading around the corner. I heard one of the bedroom doors close. It had to be the one right next to mine. I still hadn't really thought about the fact that Uncle Simon had a werewolf under his roof, and his bedroom was right next to mine. I was too busy trying to figure out what had happened to my parents and how I was going to possibly find them. Thinking about a guy seemed so pointless right now. I just rolled my eyes and continued on to my own bedroom. Zander wasn't even there. I imagined that he was in the kitchen, digging through the pantry.

I wished that I could just flop down in the beanbag chair or in my bed and take a nap. I was still tired from staying up late. But I needed to go into the kitchen and let Uncle Simon know that I was still here. I hoped he would just assume that I was tired and that's why I slept so late. I didn't want him to get suspicious, especially if he happened to notice the missing book. Uncle Simon was smart enough to put two and two together. If he figured out that I'd stayed up all night reading that book, he would know that I'd snuck into his studio, which was basically breaking a sacred rule for him.

I was just heading for my bedroom door when I heard the next room's door open. I stood there for a moment, and then rolled my eyes and continued on. Coe was leaning against the wall. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was staring down the hallway, trying to look nonchalant. I glanced over at him and started to pass by him when he reached out and touched my arm. I jumped from the contact. Coe had seemed like a pretty distant guy. Sure, he'd answered my questions honestly and openly, but he hadn't gone out of his way to talk to me since I'd almost beat him over the head with a baseball bat last time he'd done that. I started to pull away from him, but his fingers tightened. I paused and looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

He leaned forward a little bit. My heartbeat immediately accelerated. I don't know why, but I figured it had something to do with the fact that a full-blooded werewolf was holding onto my arm like it was something he did every day. I started to shoot off a load of sarcasm, but his eyes stopped me. They were such a deep mix of blue that I was drawn to them. And even more strange, he seemed to be staring right at me, like he knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling. It was the sort of feeling that made me uncomfortable, but it made me appreciate him all the more. There are some people that are just experts at reading others, and I figured that Coe was one of these people. No, I didn't like him invading my personal space, but I had to admit that he had that whole "charming" thing down pat.

Coe watched me for a moment, and then his mouth turned up into a small smile. It was slightly crooked, but I had the feeling that it was only doing that because he was giving me a combination of a smirk and a grin. Still, it was fitting, and I didn't detect any sort of malice from it. He leaned in a little more, pulling my arm so that I my face was closer to his. Then he said, in a low whisper, "I know what you did."

# # #

Chloe

"Liz?" I repeated. I crouched next to her. She was unmoving, and that freaked me out a little bit. There were still a lot of things that I didn't know about the ghost world, but a ghost lying a few inches off the ground, attacking more catatonic than ghostly, had to be something that didn't happen often. I reached out to touch her. I knew my fingers were just going to pass through her, but it was just habit. My hand passed through her shoulder, and she gave a twitch. "Liz? Are you um, there?" I asked.

Suddenly, she started moving, taking in a deep gasping breath like someone did when they were underwater for too long. She sat up, her blonde hair hanging over her shoulder. She moved to where her feet were flat on the ground. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked me over. I did the same to her. I knew that I looked different – I'd grown up. The last time I'd seen her, Zander was just about five or six years old. I knew he'd been able to see the shadow of her, as did Whitney. But neither of them pointed her out because they hadn't fully _seen_ her. Derek had explained his theory to me at some point. It had a lot to do with the fact that I was an experiment and didn't come into my necromancer powers until I was fifteen, and part of it had to do with the fact that the kids were also part werewolf. It was a big mess of a theory, but it was the best one we had. In the years since, my kids had grown up and I was starting to think that I _looked_ like a middle-aged mom. Derek was quick to assure me that it wasn't true, but it wasn't like we could stay young forever.

Liz, on the other hand, looked exactly the same as she had when I was fifteen. She was still wearing her Minnie Mouse night clothes, her blonde hair shining despite the fact that there was barely any light in here. Her socks, the same ones that she'd loved when she'd been alive and had expressed a slight annoyance in after her death, were still as attention-grabbing as ever. Just looking at her was like being transported back into time. I'd seen ghosts before that were from eras as old as the Civil War. But never had I had a friend who was a ghost that had stayed by my side for twenty-plus years.

Liz brushed off her sleeve, like there was something that was actually hanging on to her. She glanced up at me and gave me a slight smile. "Well, don't you look different?" She said, looking me over. Yes, I was older, but I probably looked more haggard, too. I knew that there was a good bump on my forehead from when Derek and I were abducted, but there was bound to be another one now, after I got hit over the head by one of Watson's henchmen.

"I'm a little worse for wear, don't you think?" I replied quietly. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. If they knew that a ghost had gotten in here, they might try to re-block the room or whatever it was that made it impossible for her to get in. I looked over at her, trying not to let my sadness convey on my face. "How are you, Liz?"

She gave a slight sniffle. I didn't know if ghosts could cry, but I had the feeling that this would be about the time that she would be trying to hold back tears. For twenty-something years, Liz had been stuck in limbo. We didn't know why. It could've been anything – she still hadn't gotten over her death, she felt like there was still something else to it, the identification of her murderer had never become public, or maybe she didn't even have an acceptable resting ground. Whatever it was, it kept Liz here on our world, denying her whatever afterlife there was. The last time I'd seen her, when the kids were still younger, she'd cooed over them. She was so excited to see them, so happy for me and Derek (she _had_ actually attended our wedding, the only ghostly specter to do so), but there was still a sense of sadness around her. Liz had been wrongfully denied the right to have a life, and now she was stuck watching all of us move on without her. That last time I'd seen her, she told me that she was looking for a way out of limbo so she could move on herself. I had honestly never expected to see her again. If she got her chance to move on, then I wanted her to take it. The fact that she was here now meant that she'd found it and had stopped by to say another goodbye, or her searching was futile and she was back to square one.

"I'm fine," She said in return. She gave a shrug. "I'm just a little disappointed, that's all. Ghosts haven't changed these days. None of them wants to help. Either that or they're all just as clueless as I am." Liz sat down on the edge of my bed. For the millionth time, I wondered how it was possible that ghosts could sit there on benches and beds and couches and stand on floors, but any other solid object (unless it was the case of a telekinetic half-demon like Liz) passed right through them. My ghostly friend brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on her fists. "So here I am. Where are you, by the way? I would like to say that you've got a nice house, but…." She let her voice trail off.

I shrugged. "I don't know where I am. After all of these years, they've found us again. Derek's nearby, I know he is. But I can't talk to him, and as far as I know, it's nearly impossible to get out of here. And Liz, they're searching for Whitney and Zander. I don't know what they want them for, but they came in here and asked me a lot of questions about them. Right now, they should be at Simon's. But that won't keep them safe forever."

"Well, we can always go back to the old days. I can find a paper and a pen and talk to Derek, take a look around, and report back to you." She offered. I could tell that it was going to be Liz's only pastime. It seemed like she'd given up on finding a way out for now. Maybe in another decade or so, she would try again. But for now, her help was wanted and appreciated.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course," Liz replied, wiggling her toes. "What else is there for me to do otherwise?"

"Thank you, really." I told her.

Liz shrugged. "I'll find something for Derek, and then I'll take a look around the building. Maybe I can find a street sign or two and let you know where we are. But I can't promise you I can get in to the other parts of the building. Do you know how hard it was to squeeze in through there?" Liz asked, pointing up to the roof. "Whoever charmed this room or whatever it is they do forgot about the electrical wires and the little spaces in the walls. If it weren't for those, I would have never found my way here."

"Thank God for faulty thinking," I replied. She laughed, a real smile lighting up her face.

"I'll be back, Chloe. I'm going to go talk to Derek."

"Got it. And Liz? Thank you again."

# # #

Liz

Where was I? Hmm. I had been in many places over the years, but this didn't look familiar in the least. Chloe's room was basically sealed off. I figured that I would have to find another way into the main building. If that required me to spread myself out and move through rat-sized spaces in the walls, then so be it. I'd now committed myself to helping her, and really, what else was there to do? Not only was she my friend that needed help, but I was a _ghost_. There _was_ nothing else to do. In all the traveling I'd done, I'd never even met another necromancer. The other ghosts hardly looked at me. Chloe was the only friend I had, and I'd have to be struck by lightning before I stopped trying to help her. If I couldn't live a full and happy life, why couldn't help someone else try?

# # #

Derek

I'd been awake for a while. What else was there for me to do besides lay back on this cot and _try_ to think of something to get us out of here? Chloe was right in the room next to mine. I'd spent a good twenty minutes pounding on the walls, trying to break them down. After a while though, with very little progress, I decided it wasn't worth it. By time I got through, if I _ever_ got through, I would've lost a lot of blood, and if they came to check on me, my intentions would be evident on the walls. And if I did manage to break down the wall between us, they'd probably just move us to separate rooms, far away from each other.

I was alerted by the sound of something at the door. It was sort of like something small was scratching at it. The door was raised about an inch, maybe a little less, off of the ground. I would've figured that there wouldn't have been that gap, but otherwise it might've created an airlock and I'd lose oxygen or the door wouldn't open because its bottom would be scraping along the ground. I stared at the bottom crack of the door. A small burst of light came in from there, but other than that, there was nothing.

I lay back again, ignoring the sound. Maybe it had just been my imagination. Or maybe it was just a rat. I'd read somewhere that rats had soft bones. They could flatten themselves out to get under doors like that. That was how they climbed up plumbing pipes. As disgusting as it was, I wasn't getting any food, and a rat might make an insignificant meal for a wolf.

The noise came again. I sat up a little more this time, trying to see what it was. Something rolled out from underneath the doorway. I sat there for a moment, debating. Was it some kind of dangerous device that Watson had wanted to test out on me? Or was it something else that was _more_ dangerous. Or what if it was completely innocuous, and I was just worrying myself by thinking up all these ridiculous scenarios? After another few seconds, a few blank sheets of paper slid in from underneath the door. That was enough to raise my curiosity. Curiosity is good for science and for finding new ways to interpret old problems. It was _not_, however, good for someone whose life was on the line, whose every move could bring him closer to death or closer to freedom. Sure, I would give up myself it came down to me or Chloe, but if I was reckless, she would make sure she killed me a second time in the afterlife. I had a feeling that was one of her biggest fears, being left alone. After the loss of her father as a close family member, it was just me, her, and the kids. Of course, there was Simon, Tori, and my father, but it wasn't the same.

I stooped down to pick up the paper and the small object that had careened into my room first. It was a regular ballpoint pen. I sat there for a minute before taking off the cap. I marked the corner of the paper. Yep, it was just a regular black-inked pen. What could a pen and paper possibly do for me? With a shrug, I set them down on the end of my cot. Was I supposed to write a letter? A memoir, perhaps? What other reason would there be?

I sat there for a moment longer, trying to figure out the significance of the paper and the pen. There had to be _something_ to them, or else Watson and his cronies wouldn't bother. Just as I was toying with the idea of actually writing something, the paper jerked up and the pen quickly followed. It flung to the ground, and in the dim light, I could see the pen moving across the page. I sat there for a moment, stunned, and then propelled myself off of the bed and down to the floor. I crouched low, trying to make out the letters with the bad lighting.

_Hi, Derek. Long time, no see. It's Liz._

"Liz?" I asked out loud. The pen, hanging horizontally in the air, gave a few vertical nods. A yes, then. It had to be Liz. We'd created the simple way of speaking years ago. Chloe and the others had been taken away from the safe house, leaving me in the attic. Before she'd been kidnapped, Chloe had set Liz to watch me and make sure everything was okay. It was a good thing, too, because she was the one that had warned me that the others had been taken, and she'd seen where they'd gone. She was the one who had sat in the passenger seat with a road map and directed me which way to go to get there. And most of all, she'd been the one that, once I'd turned into a wolf, had opened the door for me. It was amazing, the simple things in life that make one smile.

"What are you doing here?" I asked quietly. I didn't have to speak loudly for Liz to hear me, and I didn't want anybody else to hear but her. If they knew that I was talking out loud to "nothing," maybe they would be smart enough to realize that there _was_ actually something. They had to know that Chloe was a necromancer. People that "weren't there" were her area of expertise.

_Helping you, of course. Chloe is right next door. I looked round a little – you're in New York again. Not too far from Buffalo, really. And the new scientist here, Watson, he's more crazy than Davidoff was._

"Great," I sighed. I paused and sat back on my heels. "Liz, please tell me that Chloe is okay." The worry that Chloe, my wife, my _mate_, was in trouble or hurt, made the wolf in me surge to the surface. I struggled to tamp in back down. Liz had seen me Change once, and I knew that it wasn't a pretty sight. I'd had plenty of people by my side when I Changed, but I hadn't Changed once without her since that one time when I was locked in the attic and she'd been kidnapped. She was _always_ at my side. I would honestly be lost without her.

_She's fine. She's worried about you and the kids._

"Of course she is. After all these years, her sense of self-preservation is still underdeveloped." I said it more to myself, but I was already in the habit of talking out loud into air. Of course, it wasn't just air.

The pen scraped across the paper. _And yours isn't?_

"Ha, very funny," I replied sardonically. "What are you going to do?"

_As far as I know, try to figure out a way to get you two out of here._

"I don't think it will be that easy." I told her. I sat there for a moment, mulling it over. I could feel a plan coming on, but I couldn't define it just yet. It would come to me in a few moments. It would hit me like a freight train, and I would sit there and wonder why I hadn't thought of it before. Just as I predicted, it only took me a few seconds to think a rough outline through. "Liz, you remember Whitney, right? My daughter?"

_Yes. She looks like you._

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, she does." I said in a whisper. I shook my head after a moment and peered down at the paper, talking to it as if it were Liz. "She's like Chloe. She can see and talk to ghosts. She can even raise them. Zander's a lot more like me, but he can see some of them, too. I know he can't raise them, but he'll probably be able to talk to you. If you go to Georgia, to Simon's house, they should be there. You can talk to them, and they can relay the information to Simon. He and Tori can come up with a plan to get us out of here." I said. I'd learned long ago that even though I didn't want to endanger the lives of anyone else, it was imperative that I be there to take care of my kids. What would they do without their father? Sure, they were older now, but I'd grown up without a family until I met Simon and my dad. They'd made me who I was, and even if I lost my dad now, I'd be crushed. In this situation, Chloe and I needed to get out of here to be there for our kids.

_Do you think Chloe will go for it?_ Liz wrote.

"I sure am hoping so. It's our only chance, as far as I know." I said.

_I'll talk to her. Hide the pen and paper. I'll be back to let you know what Chloe says._

"Thank you, Liz." I breathed a sigh of relief. Things could start looking up. Of course, there was always going to be someone that wanted to tear everything back down.

**I'm going to honestly say that this is the longest chapter yet, and I actually am really proud about this one. I feel like it lays down the basis for the rest of the novel. Yay for Liz, the ever-loveable go-between!**

**As always, I encourage you (okay, I'll admit it, I **_**beg**_** of you) to leave me a review. I like (really, I freaking love) it when people let me know what they're thinking. I like to think of my fanfictions as ways to improve my writing for my own personal stories. :3**

**Thank you for reading, and please don't forget to spread the word (because admit it, every author likes a good hundred reviews or so. Ha.) Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you liked it! Favorite/Subscribe to get updates on when I update. I'll try to get another chapter out for you lovely readers in the next few days, but I can't promise anything. Still, keep your fingers crossed and check in often! Peace. (: **


	8. The Adventures of a Ghost

**Crixtine – Yes, yes, it was a tease. I'm so sorry! But I love cliffhangers, and it keeps readers on edge for the next update. And I completely agree with your view of Liz. I've always seen her as a pretty selfless girl, and I figured that in death she would be just the same. It's an interesting point for me to write, as well. Usually, my characters are sarcastic and cynical, so writing in the viewpoint of somebody honest and optimistic will be a challenge. :P**

**Neveah17 – Thank you! I figured the best way for Whitney to get some history was the book that Simon and Chloe made. It was an interesting idea in the series, and I honestly didn't see it really go anywhere in the series (maybe when this cast meets up with the cast from The Gathering?) Any-who, thanks for reading! (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_8: The Adventures of a Ghost_

Chloe

"He said _what_?" I asked, a little floored. It was sort of uncharacteristic of Derek to suggest that other people throw themselves into the line of danger for him. I'd had argument after argument with him on the topic. Derek, no matter how selfish he could be, was _selfless_. He'd rather have himself be the one in danger than me or his brother, or even Tori, despite their differences in the past. For him to make a plan where they came to get us was definitely out of the ordinary, but I could understand. We'd talked about it, once, in the dead of night, about what we would do, how far we would go, if we were somehow separated from them. Derek had been adamant that they needed us in their lives, and I agreed with him one hundred percent. He said he'd do anything for our children, and his words now proved that.

Liz just shrugged. "He just said that maybe I could go and talk to Whitney or Zander. They could then tell Simon everything I know about where you two guys are. I'm going to try to get a layout of the place before I leave. That is, if you two want to go through with this plan." Liz raised her eyebrows at me, conveying the seriousness of the decision. Yes, I wanted them to come get us, but what if they couldn't get it done? What if it just ended up in their capture, as well? I knew that Kit would probably refrain from coming with them. If I wasn't as young as I used to be, then he definitely wasn't. Besides, in case of an event where Tori and Simon joined us in these cells, there needed to be _someone_ that could take care of Whitney and Zander.

I sat there for a moment. Liz was my only connection to Derek right now. I didn't want her to go because I wanted to keep that line open. But our kids were more important than me. Their wants came before my own. I bit down on my lip and nodded to her. "It's our only hope."

Liz gave me a soft, sad smile. She came at sat next to me on my cot. We both stared down at her crazy socks. She wiggled her toes for good measure, and I found myself smiling. Once again, I was sad for Liz. My life hadn't been just peachy, but at least I'd continued to live. Her life was cut short because of an accident that doctors made when messing with her genetics. It wasn't fair, and I felt that sense of rage come over me. I hadn't felt this way for a long time. I used to sit there and think about all of those kids who they had killed, whose lives they had ruined "in the name of science." It didn't matter to me. I was one of those failed experiments, just like Liz. It could've easily been me instead of her, or I could've joined her in limbo. I was lucky, and she wasn't. I was starting to think that my luck was going to short circuit though, eventually. One can only escape fate so many times before it catches up with them.

# # #

Derek

"She actually agreed to it?" I asked. Liz had come back while I'd been dozing. I wasn't exactly a heavy sleeper. In the past few years, I've become an incredibly light sleeper. It's more like I'm just resting. The slightest strange noise though made me wake up. I didn't know if it had to do with kids – Zander had been a real crier when he was a baby – or if it was just because I was putting my senses into overdrive to make sure that we were okay. Either way, it hadn't really helped my cause, because I was stuck in a cell anyway, wondering what was going to become of my children.

The pen moved across the paper. Liz had already filled up most of the page, and she'd only managed to get me a handful of papers. Hopefully she would be able to fit everything she had to say onto the pages or she'd have to go find me some more. _She agreed to it. She said it was your only hope._ I nodded. Chloe had been right, of course. Liz was a blessing. Without her, there wouldn't _be_ a plan.

"Thank you, Liz, honestly. I don't know what we would do without you." I told her. It was one of the most sincere times I'd been in my entire life. Honestly, I'm not a very emotionally-invested type of person. The only times I'd ever lost control of my composure was the day I married the love of my life and the days my children were born. Other than that, I was a happily stoic person. But Liz's generosity had managed to chip away at my armor.

_You'd be a very lonely werewolf. I'll be back._

I couldn't help but smile at her flippant reply. If anyone could get out of here without trouble, it would be Liz. She was virtually undetectable unless Watson had a necromancer employed, but necromancers weren't in common order. Liz had written to me that she'd never seen another one in all of her years of traveling. Of course, the chances of one being here were raised, but they could assume that she was just a roaming ghost. Chloe had told me about those – ghosts who didn't have anyone to follow or any place to haunt. They just roamed, viewing places that they wished they could've gone when they were alive, traveling the world and doing their best to learn new things.

I leaned back in my cot, my head hitting the back wall. I wished that I could destroy the wall between us so that I could just lay eyes on her. Liz had promised me that she was fully intact and perfectly fine, but Chloe knew how to lie. Then again, Liz was pretty good at reading people. I just had to trust that she would tell me everything, especially if she had a feeling that there was something wrong with Chloe that she wouldn't admit to herself.

After a moment, I was sure that Liz had left since the pen and paper had remained unmoved on the floor. I bent to pick them up and stuffed them under the mattress and crossed metal beams of the bedframe. It looked like I'd left my immediate future up to a ghost. And the funny thing was, I trusted her to come through with her end of the deal.

Now came the hardest part: waiting.

# # #

Whitney

"What?" I asked, immediately trying to feign that there was nothing wrong. It was pretty bad acting, and he knew it. But I still stuck to my guns. That had to earn me some type of brownie points, right? "I haven't done anything." I told him.

Coe gave me a winning smile. I was annoyed to feel a hint of something in my stomach. I was _starving_ and here he was, blocking the way and giving me ominous statements. "So, you weren't doing anything in Simon's studio, then, were you?" He asked.

That was it. I'd been found out. I immediately grabbed a hold of his wrist and yanked him into my bedroom. He practically stumbled into the room, and I closed the door behind us. There was no way to get out of it now. The moment he'd said the words I knew I was screwed. "You didn't say anything to Uncle Simon did you?" I asked. I felt like I was giving him a deer-in-the-headlights look. It made me embarrassed and a little annoyed. I would've thought that I could do better. But still, if Coe decided to take that little bit of information to my uncle I'd be in so much trouble. Uncle Simon would be mad that I violated his one simple rule and hurt that I dug around in his personal room. And then he would watch me like a hawk. I wouldn't be able to do _anything_ without having him breathe down my neck, and with the plan that was slowly brewing in my head, I needed as much freedom as possible.

"How did you know? Are you following me?" I accused.

Coe put up to hands in the general I-surrender. "No, I wasn't following you. But there's something about the sound of footsteps in a forbidden room that draws your attention." He said. He dropped his hands and crossed his arms over his chest. "And I knew that it was you because you have the daintiest footsteps in the house."

"I have dainty footsteps?" I asked, somehow shocked more by that than by the first part of that sentence. What did that mean? Was he giving me a compliment and saying that I was lightweight, or was he just saying that I walked like a girl? Was it just a fact or did it mean something more? After a moment, I wrinkled my nose at him and shook my head. What was I thinking? That _totally_ was not the important part of that sentence. "Never mind. How did you hear me? You were all the way in the living room!"

Coe pointed to his ear. "Um, werewolf. It kind of comes with the territory." He said sarcastically. A part of me wanted to punch him for it, but a part of me appreciated it. I was nearly positive that I would've said the same thing in the same tone if he'd been the one asking me the questions. "And I think I should be asking you who's doing the stalking. Obviously, if you knew I was in the living room…."

"I was sneaking around! It was imperative!" I shot back in a low whisper. I put my hands on my hips and gave him a short glare, trying to drive my point home.

"And we have a confession." He said.

"I swear to God, if you tell Uncle Simon…." I struggled to think of a good threat. He was a werewolf, so he probably wouldn't be afraid of insipid things, and I didn't know him well enough to know his greatest fear or general weakness. I was trying to quickly think of something that would be bad enough that it would force him to keep his mouth shut when he rolled his eyes.

"Chill. I'll keep quiet. I just want to know why you were snooping in the first place. And what is it that you took from there."

"What makes you think I took anything?" I asked sharply.

"The look you gave me just now." He replied.

I inhaled sharply. I couldn't believe I didn't see that one coming. I used to pull it on Zander all the time – I'd make a guess about something that he'd done that would earn him a good punishment, and his face alone would tell me the truth. And here I'd fallen for my own trick. "Fine, I took a book."

"Really? You snuck up to the forbidden room and you took a _book_?"

"Shut up," I snapped. I didn't need anybody, especially _him_ on my case. I was the only one trying to do something, and everybody was trying to stop me. A burst of anger in my chest boiled, and I immediately reacted to it. Coe didn't seem bothered at all by my outburst. In fact, he seemed a little amused by it. I pushed him back, a hand on his chest. "You don't know anything." I shot, giving him another hard shove. Instead of getting angry, he just stood there. The look of amusement had wiped off his face, but I wasn't done yet. "Who _are_ you anyway? You just appear out of nowhere and you assume that you can start making judgments on me! It's a freaking important book, you jerk!" I hissed.

"Whoa, I never said it _wasn't_ an important book." He replied. It sounded like he was actually speaking through his teeth, forcing himself to stay in the vicinity of "calmness." Apparently, he had a lot more control over his emotions than I had over mine. "And I didn't just come here. _You_ did. And by the way, I'm not passing judgment on anybody." He shot back.

"Just stay out of my business!" I yelled back. Coe gave me a look like he was debating what to do. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his eyes were steely blue. But there was a softness to them that was just barely detectable. I kept my eyes on his, though, challenging him. I was, by nature, an extremely defiant, stubborn person. I'd had my scuffles with my dad and my brother, but whenever I faced them, I knew that they would never snap. They would never hurt me. There were parts of a werewolf that were more violent than they seemed – they liked to make a game out of chasing humans, chasing _prey_; and they weren't exactly starring as the role models of the Do What's Right foundation. My dad had never had any problems with wanting to chase humans. He believed it was a part that the study had managed to fix in him, since he was technically a successful experiment. Zander wasn't as volatile as other werewolves because he wasn't full-blooded. But Coe was a wild card. He could just as easily break me as he could break any other human, and there wasn't the guarantee that he would keep himself from acting out against me.

Coe didn't back down, and neither did I. I was starting to feel like neither of us was going to back down unless someone _forced_ us to. I was staring at him, my eyes completely trained on him. He opened his mouth to say something, and that's when I saw it, the hint of a shadow move in the corner behind him. With my concentration broken, I glanced over that way and took a step towards the shadow.

# # #

Liz

I'd spent a long time walking around the earth. I've been places people only dream of going to, but it still wasn't enough. I never felt fulfilled afterwards. I had no one to share my experiences with, besides Chloe, but even then I couldn't sit down and tell her where I'd been in the last twenty-something years since my death. She had a life to get to, and I didn't.

At first, I was in pity-party mode all the time. I had my hopes up that I was a shaman, somehow stuck in the astral plane. When Chloe had first told me that she was seeing me as I ghost, I was so angry that I just left her there. It had scared me at the time because I didn't want to be dead, and honestly, the amount of rage I'd suddenly had was enough to scare me. I was usually an optimistic person, but even my happy disposition and positive view of life hadn't prepared me for what she'd told me. Nobody wants to be told that they're dead, and even worse, that they're stuck in limbo, wearing exactly what they died in. I glanced down at my socks. I used to love them when I was alive, but as my afterlife progressed, they became more of an eye-sore than something unique and original.

I bit down on my lip as I walked around the building Chloe and Derek were stuck in. It was hard to move around here. It seemed like they'd had someone to come and enchant all the rooms or something to keep ghosts like me out. It meant that I had to move around through the cracks in the walls to get a basic layout, and even then it wasn't the best. After struggling for thirty minutes to find everything, I settled for saying a quick goodbye to Chloe. Derek would assume that I was already gone, and it would be more work for me to get into his room and get the pen and paper just to say goodbye than it would be to just leave and get the plan rolling.

I made my way into her room. She was sitting on her cot, staring at the wall opposite of her. I found myself worrying that she would go crazy from boredom. I didn't know if that was possible, but I really didn't want my only friend to actually go insane. "Hi, Chloe," I said.

She jumped. When her eyes landed on me, though, she smiled. "Hi," She replied back. She scooted to the edge of the cot. I looked her over again. I was stuck as a perpetual teenager, and Chloe had grown up. She was just a little taller than she had been before, and her hair was a little shorter. Her blue eyes ha d the hint of future crow's feet and laugh lines. It was strange, not seeing her as a nervous, stuttering fifteen-year-old.

"I've got the basic layout of this place. I'm going to head off to Georgia to find Whitney and Zander. I'll be back to help."

Chloe looked like she wanted to hug me, and I wished that she could. Her hands would just pass through me, though, reminding me that I really had no claim to the living. "Thank you Liz, so much."

"That's what friends are for." I replied. She gave a quick nod, and I left, making my way out of the roof and into the sky. I sat there on the roof for a moment, trying to map out my way to Georgia. I didn't know what it was, but when I wanted to go somewhere I just sort of… arrived there. Granted, the farther away it was, the more time I had to wait until I got there. It was sort of like when I disappeared after talking to Chloe. I was somewhere safe, but I didn't know where. I imagined it was like being a dust particle – I was just floating in the air, unseen to anyone unless that person held some sort of a flashlight.

I could feel myself start to move away from the roof and into that expanse of nothingness. As I floated, my journey already underway, I thought about where I'd been. I'd been to every single state in the United States. I'd been to Canada, Russia, the Middle East and Europe. I guess I hadn't searched hard enough to find a necromancer, because it seemed a little strange that I wouldn't find a single one out of all my travels, but Derek reminded me that most necromancers weren't as strong as Chloe was, and most of the time they ignored ghosts when they saw them. Ghosts were notorious for spotting a necromancer and taunting them, teasing them, and begging them to do their bidding. It had happened once to Chloe, and she'd been overrun with everybody trying to get her attention. So I guess it made sense that they would want to ignore me.

But it still hurt to be ignored.

As I moved through time, I remembered all of the buildings I'd seen, the traditions and the people and the places I'd been. It was an adventurer's dream. I'd been to the top of Mount Everest – it was just really cold and pretty blank, but still really pretty – and I'd been to the warzones of Africa, which had been scary. I'd gotten out of there as soon as possible, especially when I caught a glimpse of a bunch of ghosts hanging around with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

I was still mulling over my past as a dead teenager when I arrived in Georgia. Luckily enough, I'd been to Simon's house once before. Chloe had instructed me here, so I knew how to get here just in case. It was a lucky thing that she did so, or else I would've been scouring the entire state, looking through phone books and slipping into houses to find Simon Bae.

I decided to go in through the roof. Roofs always seemed to be the easiest. Sometimes, I think that people have done something to block the doors from being usable. But they don't seem to realize that I can go through the wall or the ceiling. I assumed Simon hadn't done anything to block out ghosts, but it was still more of an adventure when I went through the shingles.

The room I ended up in looked like an art studio. There were a bunch of sketch pads and colored pencils everywhere. I knew immediately that I'd gotten the right house when I looked at the first sketch. Simon had a very distinctive style to his artwork, one that couldn't be matched. I wanted to flip through the pages of the book, but I had a feeling that the entire room was supposed to be untouched. It just _felt_ that way. So I avoided touching anything, walking past the laptop that was humming and a bookshelf. I headed for the stairs, down to the only door in the room. I ended up in a hallway, next to another door. I poked my head through that one. It looked like it was Simon's room.

I skirted out of there and headed for the rest of the house. The outside was nice and landscaped, closed-off and private. The living room was rather large, and the office space was neat and immaculate. I headed for the kitchen. Simon was at the counter. I stood there off to the side for a minute, watching him. He looked older, too, his blonde hair a little longer but still in the basic spiky form he'd always worn it in. It was an odd choice for his age, but he _was_ supposed to be an artist, and they were all supposed to be hipsters or whatever it was. He moved around the kitchen, his eyes focused on what he was doing. It looked like he was cooking a huge lunch, big enough for a large family. As far as I knew, it was only the three of them – Simon, Whitney, and Zander. I caught a glimpse of Zander sitting at the table. It would be easy to go up and sit at the chair across from him, but Derek had said that while Zander had necromancer abilities, he couldn't hold a candle to Whitney. Those weren't his exact words, but I caught the gist of it. He wanted me to talk to Whitney. I had the feeling that Whitney was a little more like Derek. She certainly did look like him in my memory. So had Zander, but he'd had a distinctive _Chloe_ look to him that was undeniable. Whitney, on the other hand, had been a female carbon copy.

I moved across the doorway, pausing to look back. Zander had seen my movement; it was obvious by the way his eyes focused on the now-empty doorway. He just didn't know what he'd seen. I could practically see him playing through the options in his head. It could have been a trick of the light, his eyes being tired, the way he was tense. Whitney was probably a little more open to it, if she'd raised the dead before. I found myself wondering if she'd had the same amount of power as her mother, or if it was just a fraction of what her mom had. Chloe, despite having her necklace, shined like a beacon on a dark night. It was obvious to any passing ghost that she was a necromancer. I wasn't sure if Whitney would have the same bright aura to her, or if it would be dimmer, more normal. It looked like I was about to find out.

I slipped into the first bedroom. It was empty. A large queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room. I could tell that someone was living in here, but it was incredibly neat. A jacket was thrown over the back of a chair and there was a stick of men's deodorant on the dresser, but it seemed like almost everything else was in its place. It must have been Zander's room. For a boy, he sure was organized. I knew there was a bedroom right next door, so I just headed for the wall. For some reason, it was a little more work to step through this wall, but I managed it.

Whitney stood in the room, looking at a tall boy. I was a little taken aback by the presence of the stranger. Did Derek and Chloe know that there was another person here? I narrowed my eyes at him, preparing myself to start throwing things if it got violent. But it didn't seem like he was going to attack at all. It was the other way around, really.

Whitney was very obviously a necromancer. The light surrounding her wasn't as bright as Chloe's, but it was still there, almost pulsating as I watched. But instead of having the easy, calm disposition Chloe had, I could see Derek in her. She looked a lot like him, really. Black hair and shining green eyes, her mouth set in a grim line. She was fairly tall, too. But beyond her physical attributions, she seemed like the stubborn type. She looked angry, and there was definitely a challenge in her eyes. She was looking at the boy, the one that I'd never seen before, her eyes narrowed. I even saw her fists clenched at her sides. The boy looked a lot like Derek did when he was a teenager – pretty rough around the edges, well-muscled for his age, and tall. I had the feeling that it meant something, but I couldn't put my finger on it, not with Whitney so close in sight.

I stepped forward, and her eyes immediately snapped from the boy to me. But she looked confused, like she didn't really see me. I looked down at myself – same Minnie Mouse clothes, same socks – and back up to her. She still didn't seem to see me.

With a slight frown, I stepped closer. Derek had said that she was the stronger of the two siblings when it came to ghostly abilities. Both of them had seen me, but Whitney didn't really _see_ me. I was trying to figure out what I could do when I was nearly face-to-face with her. And suddenly, she seemed to see me. Her eyes got wide, and her hand immediately went to the boy standing in front of her.

**Okay, so, I think this chapter is a little shorter than my last one, but hey, it's finished, so be happy. (: I wanted to leave you with a little cliffhanger until next time (because I love them. Ha.)**

**As always, please review, favorite/subscribe, and spread the word of my story. Thank you all for reading, and I honestly apologize for any grammatical/spelling mistakes (I don't usually like to proofread, I know, I know!)**

**Anyways, thanks again, and have a great day! Peace (:**


	9. Information Drop

**Crixtine – Ooh, I have to say that I **_**really**_** like the idea to do things in Derek's POV. Maybe, if you guys don't mind a lapse in chapters, I'll do them every so often here. Or I might just make a new thread. But it might be easier on this thread. Ahh! Give me your thoughts on that in a review! As for Coe and Whitney, Coe already knows Whitney is part necromancer. Simon mentioned it (I believe in chapter five or six) but it was just a few sentences, so you might not have picked up on it the first time (; But even so, he forgets about that for a second before remembering… and one can always wonder if they're actually seeing a ghost or actually crazy.**

**Crying Silently – Haha, not quite. But I'm glad you fangirl swooned. Lol! (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_9: Information Drop_

Whitney

I'd been so sure that there was something moving in the shadows that I broke my concentration with Coe. He seemed just as surprised about it as I was, honestly. I would've thought that he would be the one to look away first. Usually, I would've felt some sort of loss. I _had_ lost an alpha-dog bet just now, which would not sit well with me later. But, at this very moment, it felt like there was something more. There was something _in here with us_. I recognized the feeling. Mom had told me all about it, how necromancers could feel out dead bodies. It was a sense of uneasiness. This didn't feel like a dead body, but a spirit. The very _moment_ I decided that there was a spirit in the room, she popped into my vision.

She was standing in right in front of me, her wide blue eyes looking at me like she was trying to figure out what was wrong with me. _I_ wasn't the dead person in the room. Even though I knew there was something there, I reeled back, a scream catching in my throat. Instinctively, I reached out for the nearest solid person. That just happened to be Coe. My hand locked around his wrist, and I nearly pulled him in front of me.

"What's going on?" Coe asked. He tried to pull his arm away from me, but I latched on. Of course he couldn't see her. She was a ghost. I stood there for a moment, my eyes wide. It was too late to pretend like I didn't see her. We just stared at each other for a long time. I was only partly aware of Coe, who was standing there next to me, his arm still in my grasp. His eyes followed my line of sight, but he wouldn't see anything.

After a long moment of pure silence, she said, "Hi, Whitney."

I stared after her blankly. She looked to be about my age, maybe a year younger. She was wearing a Minnie Mouse nightdress and these socks that were incredibly obnoxious. Her blonde hair hung over her shoulder, and her blue eyes looked at me as if she were begging me to say anything. "How do you know my name?" I asked. The moment I spoke, Coe tensed. Instead of trying to pull away from me, now, he was holding on to my hand. Maybe he thought I was going insane. But he had to know that mom was a necromancer, right? He didn't think that I'd lost it, did he?

The girl shuffled nervously. "My name is Liz. I was in the Lyle House with your parents for a little while."

"The Lyle House," I repeated, Uncle Simon's picture coming to my mind instantly. If she'd been there, and she'd known my parents….

"I've been your mom's friend for a while." She told me. "I was a failed experiment in the Genesis II project. They terminated me. Lucky for me, your mom could see me." She said. "I was a telekinetic half-demon, but now I can just move things around. I guess you could say I'm… a poltergeist." I shivered at her words.

"You're my mom's friend?" I said, looking her over. She could be lying. I bit down on my lip and asked, "What about my dad?"

"I guess I'm your dad's friend, too. When I was alive we weren't friends. It was only after I died and started helping your mom that he trusted me. Well, and that one time he Changed in the attic and I let him out." I stared at her blankly. She sighed and shook her head. "Derek said that you probably wouldn't trust me right away. You're too much like him, you know that?" She said pleasantly. Hearing my dad's name made me want to cry. And then I realized something.

"Wait, you talked to my parents?" I demanded. Coe twitched nervously at my side. "When? Where are they?"

"Calm down, Whitney. Yes, I talked to your parents. They told me to come here and talk to you and Zander. You two could tell Simon everything I knew, and then he and Tori could come and get your parents. I just talked to them… yesterday? Earlier today? I don't know for sure. Time gets kind of weird when you're a ghost." She said.

Coe started to step away from me. I figured that he was planning on going to get Uncle Simon or Zander, but I reached out and grabbed his hand. He stopped short, drawing back towards me. He pulled his hand away gently, like he wasn't really sure that he wanted to do that or not. Liz's eyes watched me like she wasn't sure what was going on. My parents probably hadn't expected Coe to still be here, or maybe they just forgot to tell Liz about him like they forgot to tell me. Or maybe she was wondering why we were secluded in this room, alone together. I could feel my cheeks flush at the possible implication.

We just stared at each other for a long time before I said anything. "How do I know you're not lying?" I asked her. "How do I know that you're here to help me?"

"Honestly? I guess you don't. You could ask Simon about me, though. And really, why would I turn against the only necromancer who's ever seen me and not ignored me?" She asked. I had a short flashback of my mom telling me about the ghosts. If I saw them, I was supposed to pretend that I couldn't see them. Otherwise, they would swarm, trying to get last messages across. There was still a small seed of paranoia, though. Liz could be someone who was with _them_, the people who took my parents. She could be pretending.

I turned to look at Coe. He was watching me, his blue eyes searching my face. He seemed to get what was going on, so I assumed that he knew about me being part necromancer. But he still looked like he was waiting for confirmation. I bit down on my lip, looked in between him and Liz, and finally said, "I think we need to find Uncle Simon."

# # #

I walked into the kitchen with Coe in tow. Liz followed behind us. She glanced down the hallway, as if she were interested in seeing what was going on, but she seemed to know the layout of the house. I thought that was pretty creepy as I stepped aside so Coe could take a seat at the bar. Liz came up and stood behind me. Even though I couldn't see her right then, I could feel her lingering a little closer than what I found comfortable. Zander looked up from the kitchen table but he didn't seem to see the ghost beside me. Maybe he was like me – he had to decide that she was actually there before she flashed into his field of vision.

"Uncle Simon," I said, my voice wavering a little. Liz jumped past me, sliding onto the table. She leaned forward, trying to get a better look at Zander. He definitely didn't see he was still looking at me, even though she'd blocked half of his vision. Or she would have, if he saw her. He turned to look at me. His face was concerned. He could definitely hear the worry in my voice. "We um, well I guess we have a visitor."

"A visitor?" Zander repeated. He glanced at Uncle Simon, and then he turned back to me. And then he yelled out, his arms flying up. He leaned back, his chair toppling over. His legs shot into the air as Liz sat poised on the table, hand over her mouth.

"I'm sorry!" She exclaimed, sliding off the table. Zander scrambled back up, his hand brushing through his hair. He glanced between her and me. It was obvious that he saw her now. I held back a slight giggle. At least I hadn't been the only one who'd jumped out of my skin when she appeared in front of me. Zander's reaction was pretty comical, to boot.

Uncle Simon dropped the spatula he was holding into the pan. "Is there a ghost here?" He asked. Coe sat completely still, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. It looked like me was struggling to stay put. I couldn't imagine why.

Zander nodded, turning to glare at me. His eyes were as big as Uncle Simon's dinner plates. I bit down on my lip. My mom had told me about pushing ghosts away. She said that a necromancer had once told her that it was dangerous to the ghost, that they were being shoved into some sort of abyss, but I didn't really have trouble doing it if Liz wasn't who she said she was. My mom had said that all I needed to do was mentally _push_ her away. I prepared myself for the worst.

"She says her name is Liz." I told him quietly.

Uncle Simon's eyes grew a little bigger. "Liz Delany?" He demanded. He glanced around the kitchen. I opened my mouth to ask her myself, since she hadn't answered. She drifted towards Coe. He gave an almost imperceptible shiver. She reached out like she was going to touch him, and immediately I was on the defensive. I'd read about ghosts that tried to possess people. My mom said that the ring she gave me was supposed to keep them from seeing me and to keep them from possessing me. She'd given Zander a ring, too. I glanced over at him. His ring was silver, the stone smaller than the one in mine. At least he was still wearing it.

"Hey," I said out loud. "Don't touch him." I warned her. Liz looked up at me, raised both of her hands in front of her, and then pointed to the pen and notepad that sat on the counter just in front of Coe. I could feel my eyebrows drawing together.

"I'm not going to do him, you, or anybody else any harm." Liz said. She started reaching again. This time, I watched her hands closely as she moved for the pen and notepad. I imagined that her fingers would have just brushed over the pen, but she actually picked it up. Coe jumped back, up and out of his chair. He glanced back at me and then his eyes narrowed in on the pen as it scratched across the notepad. Uncle Simon, still wielding the spatula, stepped forward to read it. I did, too, my curiosity drawing me closer.

_Hi, Simon. It's good to see you again. You haven't changed… much._ The pen scratched onto the page. I stared at the letters. Liz _had_ said that she was a type of poltergeist, but I would have thought that she moved things when she was angry or something. I didn't think that she could just pick up normal, everyday objects and use them.

Uncle Simon just laughed. "I wish I could say that it was nice to see you, too, Liz. Let's just say that it's nice to talk to you again." He said. He turned to look at us. Coe, Zander, and I all stared at him like he was crazy. Uncle Simon motioned towards the general space in front of the notepad. It was where Liz was standing, her face smiling as she listened to Uncle Simon talk. "Liz was at the Lyle House with me and your parents," He said to me and Zander. The two of us looked to each other and then back to Uncle Simon. "She's helped us more than she will ever know. I can honestly say that I'm not sure we would've made it without her."

Immediately, I stepped forward, sliding into Coe's old seat. I looked her over, and she waited patiently, a sweet smile pasted on her face. "Okay," I said, "So I believe you now."

"Well," Liz said, giving a shrug, "That's all I can ask for. Now we've got to get down to business." She said, tearing off the page of the note pad. She crumpled it up and set it on the counter. Zander drifted a little closer, leaning against my seat as he struggled to look at the notepad. He could hear her, too, but he was determined to see what was written on the page. Liz picked up the pen again. She started sketching something on the page. "Your parents have been captured by the Edison Group." She told me. "The lead doctor there now is Dr. Watson. He took Dr. Davidoff's place after he died. I can't really say what he's working on – none of their computers were unlocked, and I always have to make sure that they don't have a necromancer hanging around." She said. She started sectioning off boxes on the sheet of paper. "They're a little outside Buffalo, New York. They're in a pretty big building. I think it's the replacement for the one we tore down." She said. She started labeling things on the sheet, pointing to two rooms in the very center of the building. "This is where your parents are. Derek's in this one and Chloe's in the other." She said, marking one with a _D_ and the other with a _C_.

I relayed the information to Uncle Simon, who stood there, nodding. Coe had taken a different seat at the counter bar. He leaned forward on his elbows, trying to get a look at the notepad. Liz had completed her quick sketch of the building layout. She pointed to several things, and as she told me what they were, I told them to Uncle Simon. He nodded, his eyes focused on the page like he was taking everything in. I was practically shaking. I wanted to get up and _go_. Aunt Tori lived in New York. It wouldn't be hard to find her and get everything started. With the information that Liz had given us, we should be able to get them out pretty quickly. Zander, still sitting next to me, was just as excited as I was.

Once Liz finished explaining the fine details – all of which I told Uncle Simon – she tore off the page that she'd sketched the building on and handed in to him. He took it from her, though to him and Coe, it was like he was taking the piece of paper out of thin air. He glanced down at the paper for a moment before folding it up and sliding it into his back pocket. "Thank you, Liz. Really," He said. "It looks like I'm going to have to call Tori."

"When can we go?" I asked. Liz glanced over at me, her eyes sort of sad. It was like she knew something that I didn't. Immediately, my muscles tensed. I thought Liz had told us everything. If she was hiding something from me….

Uncle Simon's expression tore my attention away, though. He looked like he was sad about something. I bit down on my lip so hard that the split, which had almost healed over in the past few days, broke open again. I licked my lips, tasting the saltiness copper of my own blood. Uncle Simon shook his head. "You can't come with us." He said quietly. "I'll go on my own. You kids need to stay here or go stay with your grandfather." He said.

I shook my head. "They're _our_ parents," I said. "You could be just fine if you never saw them again." I shot, "But me and Zander _depended_ on them. We still do!" I shouted. Liz drifted towards me. She put her hand out like she was going to comfort me, but I took a step back. She wouldn't be able to touch me anyway, but it was the principle that mattered. "You can just tell us to sit here or go to grandpa's." I said.

Uncle Simon shook his head. "If they wanted your parents, they may want you." He said.

Liz nodded. "Your mom said that they were asking about you two," She said to Zander and me. "It sucks, but it'll be safer for you two of you just stay out of it and let Tori and Simon handle it." She said. "They've done a lot in the past. They're smart. They'll be able to figure it out, I promise you." I shook my head at her. "If you don't tell Simon, I will." She warned.

With a sigh, and I told him exactly what Liz had told me.

"That seals the deal, then. You and Zander can stay here with Coe." Zander bristled at that, but he didn't say anything. I was already fuming, so there wasn't anything new with me. "Don't give me that look," Uncle Simon said to me. I bit down on my lip and glanced away. He motioned towards Liz. "Come on up to my studio, Liz. We'll give Tori a call and get ready to go out to New York." He sighed and shook his head.

He turned and headed towards his studio stairs. I found myself wondering if he would discover the missing book, and if he would connect it to me. As he and Liz drifted away, I narrowed my eyes at Zander and Coe, and then headed towards the bedroom.

# # #

Coe

Simon and the ghost, Liz, had been locked away in his studio for a while. I imagined that they were making plans with Simon's sister, Tori. I'd never met her, but I'd heard that she had a real attitude and a sarcastic bite. Simon had also told me that she and Whitney were a lot alike. I figured that it would be nice to meet her, one day.

I sat in the living room, watching TV. It was a television show about funny viral videos. Some of it was amusing. There was nothing like people making themselves look stupid. But other videos were just boring, a way to pass the time. As I watched, I folded newspapers in airplanes, hats, and boats.

I heard Simon's studio door open. I immediately stopped, my entire body tensing. I waited, listening as hard as I could. Simon's footsteps came down the hallway, and then he was standing in the living room. "Coe," He said calmly. I sat forward a little bit in my seat. I'd been living with Simon for three years, now. He had never made me do anything that I didn't want to do, and he always respected my decisions. But I recognized his serious voice. He was about to ask me to do something for him. I stood up from my chair, and he motioned for me to step outside.

I did as he said. Simon's backyard wasn't anything spectacular. There were a few trees, a couple patches of wildflowers, and a worn wooden fence that blocked his yard from his neighbors. Simon had gone out of his way to install trellises that were covered in an ivy-like plant that made his backyard all the more private, but that was the only thing that he'd really done to the back. Simon stepped out and closed the door behind him.

"I have a favor to ask of you," He said. I nodded, and he sighed. "I figured you might want to come with me to get Derek and Chloe, but I would really appreciate if you stay here. Liz and I have been talking, and we're sure that Whitney won't let this go easily. She never does. What I mean, is… I'm asking if you'll stick around and make sure that Whitney and Zander don't plan to follow us. Liz used her to get information to me. It was helpful and it saved time, but it also means that Whitney knows everything that we do about the building." Simon said easily.

I nodded. "I'll do it. Liz said that it'll just be dangerous for them to go, right?"

"It's dangerous for any of us to go. But I have a feeling that this Dr. Watson will be particularly interested in Whitney and Zander. There aren't many werewolves that hang out with supernaturals here in this world, and since the two of them have a part of Derek, Dr. Watson is bound to find them worthy of _something_. Honestly, he might be open for anyone – me, Tori, and even you."

"I'll watch them." I said. Simon held out his hand, and I took it. We shook once, sealing the deal.

"Don't tell Whitney or Zander about it. It'll just make them all the more mad." He said.

"I won't." I promised.

# # #

Simon

I packed a suitcase of things to take to New York. I wasn't sure if Liz was still with me or not. If she was, she hadn't written down anything for me to read, and she hadn't moved anything for me to pinpoint where she was. I pulled out another few shirts and rolled them up, putting them into a suitcase. This journey was going to be something that I had wished I never had to do again.

Liz and I had headed up to my studio. She had carried the notepad and the pen from the kitchen. She wrote out her thoughts to me as I dialed Tori's house phone. Tori had been slightly excited about it. She had always said that life had sort of slowed down and got a little boring since Davidoff's death. There had been nothing for her to throw her energy balls at when that was all over. But she knew that this was even more serious than it had been back in the day. This time an even crazier doctor had a hold of Derek and Chloe, and their capture meant that not only were they in trouble, but their kids.

I pressed down on the suitcase, trying to get it to zip closed. I didn't know how long I was going to have to stay in New York. I was hoping that it wasn't going to be long. Once I got there, Tori and I would have to make a plan, and then there would have to be spying and building sweeps. We couldn't just barge into this and expect to come out on top. This was going to take a significant amount of planning. Back when I was a teenager, we would've come up with some plan and gone straight for it. It had always gotten us in more trouble than not. If there's anything that it taught me, it's that, while we had brains and abilities, we didn't have the patience to get things done safely and without a hitch.

That was one thing about Whitney. Zander would understand, for the most part. He would _get_ that he needed to take a step back and let someone else take a hold of the problems. That was sort of like Chloe – she'd always wanted someone else to help us, someone older and with more wisdom. She and Zander weren't all-or-nothing kind of people. But Whitney was a wild card, really. She would have hated the fact that I was going to make her stay here. But if she came with me, she would've been demanding that we go right then and forgo precaution. She was action-oriented. _Planning_ was a term that was a double-standard for her. She liked to have her plans all aligned, but when she decided to do something, she let planning slip out of the window. She certainly was a mess, to be honest.

I pulled my suitcase off the bed and set it by my door. I would be leaving tomorrow morning. I would say a quick goodbye to the three of them, warning them to stay put and stay quiet. Coe had promised me that he would make sure Whitney and Zander didn't get into any trouble. I could only hope that he would do it because he thought about keeping Whitney safe. Hopefully, he wouldn't break under Whitney's gaze. She was a tornado, that was for sure, and I'd seen the look in his eyes. There was something about my niece that he liked. But there was also respect for her, too.

I could only pray that he would treat her the way Derek treated Chloe, if there ever came to be anything between them. I would hate to be the one that Derek killed for letting Coe stay here with his kids alone.

**How did you guys like it? Like always, please leave me a review, and like always, I hope that you guys are spreading the word. Share it! Haha (:**

**Thank you for reading, as always. And, as always (again) please disregard spelling/grammatical mistakes. You can't always catch everything. :3 Peace (:**


	10. Disregarded

**Crying Silently – The best love stories are always the ones where they don't see it. You're sitting on the edge of your seat just **_**wishing**_** they would see it. Sigh.**

**Lena WhiteWolf – Thank you! I'm glad you like it!**

**Crixtine – It's all good. It was just a few sentences, so I'm not surprised you missed it. I had to go back myself and make sure that Simon mentioned it. Haha. All I can tell you right now about Coe is that he's conflicted (which you will read more of in this chapter.) Tori and her husband have yet to make plans with Simon yet. And, as for Derek's POV, I like the idea of him thinking about it while he's stuck in his jail cell. I'll give you a preview of Derek's wedding day in this chapter. Lastly, I never thought about my DP stories have continuity, but you're right! How funny. And I promise that I will be updating **_**After the End **_**in the near future. (:**

**alliycat1301 – You'll have to check back to see… that is, if they ever do. (Evil laugh.) (: **

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_10: Disregarded_

Derek

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. My days consisted mostly of sitting there and wondering where I had all gone wrong. Every single day, I sat there and wondered what Watson wanted with me and my family. I wondered if my days were numbered, and I wondered if my kids were safe. But most of all, I wondered, _worried_, about my wife. Thanks to Liz, I was now positive that she was in the room right next to me. But I didn't know much else. Liz had said that she was fine, but that had been _hours_ ago. Something could have changed.

Chloe could have lied.

I bit back the urge to pound on the wall. I was sure that she could hear it… maybe. And if she could, she could talk back to me, right? But it would just tear me apart even more, knowing that she was right there. The wolf inside told me that I needed to do everything I could to protect her and take care of her. The wolf inside said that she was helpless. I knew that wasn't true, but my protective side seemed to have a mind of its own. I had to wrestle with myself to keep from jumping up and hitting the wall with as much force as I could muster.

Chloe wasn't helpless. I'd seen her raise the dead. I'd seen her look directly into a skeleton's pocketed eyes and command it. My little mate could stand up for herself. She'd stood up to _me_ on more occasions than one. Of course, I was putty in her hands. I'd do anything for her. My biggest worry was that other people could get past those eyelashes and that smile.

I could remember the very first time I saw her. I thought that she'd be perfect for what I planned. Simon, the chivalric chauvinist, as I liked to call him, needed to get out of the Lyle House. He refused to leave without me. I was determined to get him out of there without me. The only way I could come up with was to present him with a damsel in distress. And, to my chagrin, the entire plan had worked. It had worked so well that _I_ had ended up escaping with them. Part of it had to do with the pre-Change that had racked through me. The other part of it had been that Chloe had seen me, really _seen me_ for what I was, and she had stayed. She wasn't a damsel in distress. She could handle herself. But from that point on, I was determined to protect her. She had almost immediately wormed her way into my pack, and she had stayed there ever since.

From that moment on, it was ingrained in me to watch her. If not for the need to keep the wolf satisfied, then to keep Simon's love interest alive. Simon had always been chasing after girls. And since she had given me the out to get Simon out of the Lyle House, I owed it to her. And, strangely enough, she'd proven to me that she was more than just a movie-obsessed necromancer. She was someone with an attitude and a brain. She wasn't stupid and clueless like others that had been part of Simon's conquests. She was capable.

I couldn't – and still can't – pinpoint when my feelings towards her became less pack-like and more romantic. I had been so blind that I hadn't even seen it until that day when Simon had finally finagled a date out of her. I'd been so mad when I'd seen her walking back towards the house by herself. I'd immediately thought that she'd ditched Simon. She was smart enough that she wasn't constantly falling at his heels, begging for his attention. It could've been that, for once, a girl had pulled one over him. But when she'd looked up at me, tears in her eyes… I'd broken right then. My emotions took a wild turn, from annoyed and angry to concerned. I'd put every blame on her until I'd seen her eyes, and then all of a sudden it was Simon that was to blame. And when she told me that Simon assumed that she was interested in someone else, namely _me_, it had hit me.

I'd always been an analytic person. Simon and my adoptive father were the only people that I'd ever let close to me. They were the only ones that I could trust. But in that instant, I realized that I trusted Chloe just as much as I trusted my brother. And to make matters worse, I _liked_ her. Instead of holing up with an advanced math book, I was spending my free time "innocently" thinking about her. In the past, it had always been chalked up to the wolf. But now… now it was _me._

Who would've thought that I could win the girl?

Our relationship had taken a turn for the better. It hadn't taken me long to fall completely in love with her. It hadn't taken long for my wolf to claim her as its mate. And, after five years, I asked her marry me. It was probably one of the most unromantic things ever. It had just happened, not long after I turned twenty-one. She'd only been twenty. And yet, at our young age, I knew that we were going to be together forever. If she'd lasted with me for that long then she could handle the rest of our lives, right? I couldn't ask for more commitment from her. _She_ was the one who had been ready to make it official before I was. And so, I turned to her and pulled her close. I'd kissed her and whispered that she should marry me. I didn't have a ring. I hadn't gotten down on one knee. I hadn't gone all out and gotten a band to play some sappy love song, and I hadn't even thought of a creative way to ask her to spend the rest of her life with me.

And the most amazing thing was that she agreed to it without missing a beat.

And, within months, I was standing at a makeshift altar. It hadn't been grandiose, but it had been enough for the two of us. Tori, of course, had gone out of her way to make things obnoxiously wedding-like. It had actually come to a surprise to me, even though she had managed to make herself our friend over the years. Simon had stood next to me, looking extremely nervous. In all the time that Chloe and I had been together, I'd been shocked that he'd never accused me of stealing his girl. Not once. I guess that could be explained now – he had a string of girlfriends, and it didn't look like he was planning to settle down anytime soon.

But that day had been one of the best days of my life. I'd stood at that altar, scared to death, and looked out at my father and Chloe's aunt. I knew she was heartbroken that her father couldn't attend her wedding, but we had kept up with the charade of keeping him as far away as possible. His involvement with his daughter would've led to problems in the future. He didn't even know he had grandkids. Maybe, if we ever got out of this, I would change that.

I closed my eyes a little tighter, recalling in almost perfect memory the way Chloe had looked. Tori had marched down the short aisle with purpose. But beyond Tori, hiding behind a door in an extravagant white dress, was my little Chloe. She held a bouquet in front of her, nearly covering her face with it as she stood there nervously. Even from my distance away, I could see that she had her eyes glued shut. I struggled not to smirk at her. I knew that her emotions had to be out of whack. I was the stoic one, and _my_ emotions were bouncing off the walls like a hyper child that had eaten too much chocolate.

And then she had opened her eyes, and I'd seen the gleam of tears from where I stood. But they weren't sad tears that I had seen that night when I'd discovered my love for her. They were happy tears, _ecstatic_ tears. And I couldn't help but grin like an idiot when she'd started walking down that aisle to a limp rendition of the wedding march. And the only thing I could think of in my head was that nothing could be better than seeing her walking towards me, promising her life to me, just like I was about to promise my life to her.

Chloe had stepped in front of me and turned to look at me. I wanted to kiss her right then and there, but I knew that Tori would've blamed me for ruining the wedding. I figured that I could just wait until the time was right to avoid the wrath of a genetically-altered witch. I'd said my vows, and I watched as Chloe's smile slowly grew. And then it was her turn, and she stuttered on her words. I couldn't help but smile, knowing that she was so excited and nervous for this that she resorted to stuttering, a habit that she had all but gotten over in the past years. I brushed my thumb over her cheek and slid her ring onto her finger. It wasn't worth much, but it was a symbol of my eternal love for her. It was a relief to put it on her finger and know that she was mine, _forever_. And then I'd leaned in and kissed her….

My head was still wrapped up in memories of my wedding day when the door to my cell banged open. I jerked away from the wall, my muscles immediately tensing. And the only thing running through my mind was the thought of kissing Chloe.

# # #

Whitney

Uncle Simon was leaving today. He was going to New York, to break my mother and my father out from the jail they'd been put into. And I was stuck here, in Georgia, hoping that everything went fine. Apparently, he thought I was just going to sit around and file my nails or watch stupid television shows. All I _wanted_ to do was go with him. I wanted to help. What else was I supposed to do anyway? They were my parents, and I was determined that I was going to help them. I wasn't going to just let everybody else do something that was partly _my_ job.

"You kids know where the money is. Whitney, make sure you call your grandfather every week. He's talking to Rick, who's going to stay behind and make sure all of us are connected somehow or another. Tori, Liz, and I will get your parents out." He said. I didn't do anything to show that I acknowledged his words, and he sighed. "Please, Whitney. Everything will be fine." He said. He continued on without talking to me, saying a quick goodbye to Zander and Coe. Coe gave him a handshake and Zander had given him one of those manly hugs. There was something wrong with seeing my uncle man-hug, but instead of saying something snarky I just turned my head and ignored them.

Uncle Simon gave me one last look before he nodded to the guys. He picked up his bag and headed for the front door. I leaned against the wall and waited, listening to the sound of his footsteps on the porch stairs. I heard his car door slam shut, and then the sound of his engine turning over. I chewed on my lip as his car rolled out of the driveway. I didn't want to seem too eager, but I was planning on hurrying up. I didn't want Uncle Simon to get to New York and make plans before I could get there myself.

After a good five minutes had passed, my nerves had me practically shaking. I was so hyped up that I had just wanted to _go_. My duffel bag was still mostly packed. I had Aunt Tori's address and, now that Uncle Simon wasn't here to catch me, it would be easier to go up into his studio and print out a map. The only problem was my brother and Coe. The latter was keeping a closer eye on me than I would've liked, and honestly, he wasn't being very sly about it. It made me think that he'd been put up to it, because Coe didn't seem like the type of person that would stand there and stare at me so blatantly without a reason. And I'd seen the way Uncle Simon had looked at him so pointedly. There was something going on with them that I didn't know about, and I didn't like it.

But it didn't matter, because I fully intended to go after Uncle Simon. Honestly, what could he do to stop me? I was fully capable of getting to New York by myself, even if it meant having to scour the area around Buffalo until I found it. Liz was more use to me than to them – they'd have to be in the nearby vicinity of paper and pens or something of the like to communicate with her. It wasn't like Zander would stop me because I had always gotten my way when it came to him. He was my brother, and he was determined to keep me from getting hurt. It was sweet, but it also worked in my favor. I could talk him into anything.

The only person who would _dare_ to stop me would be Coe. I didn't know him well enough to know his weaknesses. I wasn't sure that I could sweet talk him into seeing my way. I had the feeling that he'd already made a pact with Uncle Simon, and if that was true then I was in trouble. He seemed to respect Uncle Simon, and I didn't think that he would break any promises with him. I had to admit it, though, it was nice that he intended to do as he said he would.

After standing there for what seemed like forever, I stepped away from the wall, heading towards my bedroom. I would have to get my things ready so I could go the moment I decided that it was perfect. Coe, though, seemed to get that I wasn't going to stand around and do nothing. Maybe he'd been tipped off by Uncle Simon.

But what I hadn't expected was Zander immediately stepping forward. "What are you doing?" He asked. His blue eyes searched my face, as if he could see the emotions underneath. I worked to keep my face straight as I stared back at him, cocking an eyebrow. He kept the stare-off going, and instead of pretending like it wasn't a challenge, I took it.

"Nothing, Zander," I said, forcing myself to keep from blinking. He stared back at me. I was determined to win this one, since the last time I'd had a staring competition I'd been distracted by Liz. And, to be honest, I was sure that Coe still counted it as a win on his part. I would've counted it as a win if he'd been the one that had seen her floating around in the back corner.

"I know that look, Whit." Zander replied. His blue eyes were so much like our mothers that it reminded me of those times when I'd argued with her. Now, I regretted all of those moments. I'd do anything to know that she was sitting at home, waiting for us. I'd never realized how much I took my mom's presence for granted until she wasn't there. And my dad was a different story. While I'd fought with him all the time, having him not there was so wrong.

"I'm not giving you any look." I told him.

"_That_ look, right there!" Zander said, pointing at me. "That defiant look that says you're going to do whatever you want. You gave mom the same look when she said you couldn't go to that stupid concert last year that you snuck out to go see!"

I could feel a flush crawling up my neck. I'd gotten in so much trouble for that, and he knew it. It was still sort of a sore subject between me and my parents. Mom had been angry, sure, but dad had nearly blown a gasket. He'd spent a good hour yelling at me for putting myself in danger, for being stupid, and for not thinking about my safety. Mom had sat off to the side for the first five minutes, and then she'd tried to step in. But dad had gotten his way, and I'd been grounded for a few _months_. It was still referred to as the biggest blow-up in the house.

I opened up my mouth to shoot off something sarcastic when Coe stepped in between us, blocking our connection. Zander took a step back, as if he didn't like being so close to him. I stood there, defiantly putting my hands on my hips. "Guys, stop it." He said calmly. He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "We're all just a little bit high-strung right now. Go take a breather or something."

I glanced at him, narrowing my eyes. I could practically see my posture changing – leaning forward a little bit more, eyes going squinty, nose wrinkling, chin rising in defiance. "What makes you think that taking five minutes will change anything? Uncle Simon's just left us here because he doesn't think we can handle it." I told him sharply. I went to move past him. He stepped directly in front of me, blocking my path. I went to move around him, and he moved with me. Coe reached out and grabbed my arm. Behind him, Zander let out a low warning growl. Coe ignored it, probably because we all knew that if it ever got into a fight between him and Zander, Coe would win. He was the full-blown werewolf. He probably had extensive training and out-classed Zander. And thanks to the slight age difference, he probably had more experience. If his life really was as rough as he'd made it out to be, then there had to be actual fights in his past. Zander's only fights had been against me or dad and they'd all been obviously faked.

"Let go," I hissed, trying to pull my arm away. I still couldn't see Zander over Coe's shoulder. He'd given the other werewolf a warning, but he wasn't exactly leaping to my defense. I couldn't tell if I was thankful or annoyed. At least he thought that I could handle myself. But I didn't want him to be so blinded that he couldn't see when I actually needed help. If I actually needed help, that is.

"What are you planning, Whitney?" Coe demanded.

"What does it matter to you?" I asked just as harshly. I tried to pull my arm away again, and he didn't answer me. "Fine!" I yelled out. "I'm going after them. I'm going to help them, and you _can't_ stop me. Now let go!" I ripped my arm away from him. I had the feeling that he sort of let me go, but I ignored it as I stomped past him, slightly annoyed at myself that I'd spilled out my plans.

I'd been worried that I wasn't going to be able to get past him. But clearly, I needed to worry about the fact that _he_ had so easily gotten past _me_.

# # #

Coe

Simon had been right. He hadn't even been gone for an hour and she was planning ways to get out of here and follow him. It was going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. I had imagined that she would want to leave and go after her parents. I could understand the notion. I was the only "idiot" son left standing in defense of my father. Whitney obviously held some sort of twisted need to take care of her parents. It was usually the other way around. Parents wanted to help their kids. Whitney tried to pretend that she was tough and strong. She pretended that she could handle anything. But honestly, she was pretty selfless. She was throwing herself in the line of danger to help her parents. Maybe she hadn't been thinking about that, but my father had always said that there was more in actions than there were in words.

She pushed past me. Her elbow shoved into my side, and I wasn't really sure that it was an accident. It was clear by the way she was acting that she knew something was up. She wasn't stupid. She was bound to get that Simon had asked me to watch her. After he'd asked it of me, it wasn't really that surprising to me, either. I should've seen it coming.

I heard Whitney's door slam shut. She was bound to be getting ready for her breakaway. I glanced over at Zander. He didn't like me. That was obvious. I figured that it had to do with his wolf. I'd always fought with my brothers, and I'd even fought with my father on several occasions. But there was always a sort of respect between him and me, like an alpha to an omega. But with Zander and I, it was two wolves that were on the brink of leaving home and becoming adults. He wanted to have authority over me, and I wanted to have authority over him. I tried for a smile. Zander looked at me in the eyes for a few seconds, then he glanced away just a few seconds short of a real challenge. I'd seen that challenge with his sister. She'd done the same thing to me. It was sort of honorable, really. Wolves took challenges very seriously. And girls didn't get the werewolf gene, but it was clear that some things were different were Whitney. I figured that it was because her dad was supercharged. But even then, she knew the repercussions and she still walked into danger with her head held high. I'd never seen anybody else do that with such ease.

I found myself completely respecting her. And liking her just a little bit more. I'd been floored when I'd woken up that morning after she and her brother had come in. I'd smelled their scent and warned Simon, thinking that someone had come up the walkway. I was always worried that someone would find us. Simon said that the only reason anybody would be after him was because of his past or because of his connections. The study that Whitney's parents had been in had worked for Simon. All of his abilities were lessened, which I knew he had to hate.

Even then, he'd just laughed at me and told me that it was just his niece and nephew. I hadn't expected to see a girl that was so stunning. Sure, she was pretty, but her attitude could be a complete turn off. Yet I found myself drawn in just a little more every single time she fought me. Every time she'd glared at me, challenged me, or told me that I couldn't stop her from doing anything, I found myself liking her a little bit more.

And that had to be dangerous.

I'd been interested in girls in the past. I'd dated girls in the past. But they were all meaningless. I knew about the mates. I'd always been worried about imprinting on someone like that when there seemed to be so many problems in my world. It was wrong to bring someone who was blissfully oblivious into a world where they had to watch their back. But Whitney was already immersed in that world, and to be honest, she was probably causing some of the tension in it. But I still didn't want to like her. I'd only met Derek briefly, but he was a pretty big guy. He sort of reminded me of a Cain – huge, ,but he wasn't hideous and he definitely wasn't stupid. But he could probably knock me down in an instant. I didn't want to be the one to face his wrath.

Maybe Simon really had made a mistake by putting me in charge of making sure that Whitney stayed here. I had the feeling that, if I wasn't careful, she'd be able to get me to let her go. She had that sort of devious mind. And it was obvious by the way I reacted to her simple shove that she had a little more pull over me than I liked.

**Sorry for the long wait. (At least, it seemed long to me.) My computer got infected, but it's all good now, so here's your update! Yay!**

**As always, leave me a review, and thanks for reading! Peace (:**


	11. Promises

**Crixtine – Derek's tensing up because someone is coming into his cell and he doesn't like that. He's thinking about kissing Chloe because that's what he was thinking when his door opened. Sorry, it wasn't exactly the best sentence, but I couldn't figure out a way to reword it. (;**

**alliycat3101 & fighter61998 – Thanks (:**

**elizi02 – Why thank you (: And ha! I didn't picture Simon as gay, just as a guy that would have a hard time settling down with someone. I don't know what it is, but he doesn't exactly star as the type that would **_**want**_** to tie himself to someone. And Coe is pronounced like "toe," but with a **_**C**_**. (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_11: Promises_

Liz

Simon looked uneasy. It was understandable, though. I'd only hung around for a little while and I could tell that Whitney was a handful. I didn't think that the boy Simon had made an agreement with – I think his name was Coe – could handle her. He'd been a little too wonderstruck to keep her at bay. She'd reminded me of Derek with her direct, stubborn attitude. But, like Chloe, she could be sly about it. And like her mother, she had that ability to bat an eyelash and have boys run to help; and she seemed pretty clueless about it.

Then there was Zander. He reminded me of a young Simon – the comic relief of the group, the one that could stay calm in a stressful situation, the one that could usually take a step back to give the whole picture a good look. He was bound to be the peace keeper, the only one that wouldn't get so emotionally riled up that he would jump into the fray himself. But there was a part of him that was so inherently _Derek_. He had an air that said he could very easily be trouble but chose not to be. It could've just as easily been the genetics that he shared with his father – Derek had told me that the werewolf gene passed down through boys only. The only way I could challenge that was by saying that Whitney seemed to have a wolf of her own, just one that didn't show as physically as Zander or Derek. Because Zander had given me that narrow-eyed look when he _finally_ saw me, his skepticism clear on his face. But he'd been quick to believe, faster than Whitney had.

And then there was that boy. Coe. If I wasn't dead, I'd go for him. He'd be the type of guy that my friends and I would admire from afar. The kind that Tori wouldn't hesitate to flirt with, had she been younger (it was weird to think of them as grown while I was still stuck in a teenage body; if Tori actually flirted with him now, that would be very, _very_ creepy.) that boy was handsome, with his smooth dark hair and bright bluish eyes. And just by looking at him, I could tell that he was already taken. It wasn't like he had it stamped across his forehead, but it was evident in the way that he held himself. He wasn't trying to look proud or big or strong. He wasn't trying to gain attention of girls. Single guys had a way of projecting that they were single, sort of like they were mentally shouting it out while looking laid back. But none of that had been present in Coe.

And I'd seen the way he looked at Whitney. Big eyes, a slight smile, body language that said he was protective over her. The way he'd looked at me when I'd scared her. He wasn't really seeing me, but he was annoyed that _something_ had freaked her out. And Whitney hadn't seen it. Or at least, she didn't _seem_ to see it. Maybe it was only in the one-sided crush phase. If he actually liked Whitney more than that… it was bound to be interesting. Derek was pretty protective of his daughter, and Chloe could be a force to be reckoned with if she felt like she needed to be. And I was sure that Whitney could hold her own. She'd probably be able to give a few fighting punches. But there was something about that boy that was different. Derek-like. Could he really be a werewolf? I wasn't sure, and I didn't ask.

I settled into the passenger seat of Simon's car. It was really nice, nicer than the Mercedes my mother had driven, back before I died. It was small and compact and high-tech. Something that was so completely Simon. With a sigh, I pulled open the glove box to let Simon know I was there. If anything, I missed being able to be seen. Chloe helped me remember what it was like to be a visible person, not just a ghost floating in the world, unseen and alone.

"Liz? Can you tap the window once for yes and twice for no?" Simon asked, his eyes darting in between the row and the seat that I was currently occupying. I obliged, tapping the window once, a hard rap against my knuckles.

Simon sighed. "Do you think they'll be okay?" He paused for a moment, then glanced over at me and said, "Scratch that. Do you think Coe can hold back Whitney?" I sat there for a moment, entertaining the idea. Coe was strong, and he looked pretty determined when he'd made his deal with Simon. But Whitney could just as easily bat those eyelashes as him and he'd be all but pushing her out the door. Finally, I tapped on the window three times.

"Is that a maybe?" Simon asked. I knocked once. I thought I saw a tiny grin cross his face, half worried, half amused. "I hope he can."

# # #

Derek

For some reason, I was thinking that it was Chloe at my cell door. But the man standing in front of me was definitely not her. This time, guards stood right by his side. That didn't stop me from letting a low growl slip out from between my teeth. Just _seeing_ the man made my wolf want to attack.

"Now, now," Watson said. "Did you not learn your lesson the first time?" He looked pleased with himself, amused, really. I had been expecting something different from him, more like Davidoff hand been – sly, smooth, a viper disguised as a harmless man. But Davidoff hadn't been harmless. He'd turned out to be arguably insane. And if Davidoff was insane, that made Watson a flat out lunatic. I bared my teeth at him but kept my seat on the cot. I couldn't get out of here with brute strength. It was going to have to be a little more calculated than that.

Watson laughed. The guards on either side of him didn't look amused in the least. I'd put money down that they were some sort of supernaturals. I couldn't tell just by looking at them, though. All I could tell was that they weren't wolf. "See, here's the thing, Derek. Your kids are trouble. They blew up my van, you know. The guys inside were worthless, though. At least I don't have to deal with those idiots anymore." I nearly blanched. Whitney and Zander shouldn't have had to face that at such an early age. But they had, and I couldn't help but feel a little pride in the fact that they had been able to handle it. I wanted to imagine that they'd managed to get out unscathed and make their way to Simon's. I narrowed my eyes at Watson, wishing that there was something that I could say that would make his blood boil. But I didn't know his weaknesses, not yet. But I fully intended to. "Now, Derek, don't give me such a look. Your mercy stands with me," He said, motioning over his shoulder. Another set of guards rolled something in, something large. It looked like a box with wheels on it. The front of it was obviously a door – there were hinges on the side. Little pockets stood equidistant on the front, but I couldn't tell what they were for. But I immediately didn't like the thought of what was inside. Was it some sort of twisted coffin where they held Chloe? Or could it possibly be a torture device for me? Both thoughts hurt me, but the former was like a punch to the gut. It made me want to retch over the side of the cot, preferably on Watson's shoes.

Watson leaned over and put a hand on the metal handle. He wrapped his fingers around it, pausing to give me a leering grin, and then he yanked it open. Inside, it was empty. But the back of the door was covered in sharp spikes. The tips glinted in the dim light of the overhead bulb. Watson pulled out a metal key that looked more like the stick of a lollipop. The pockets in the front of the door suddenly made sense to me. They wanted to put me in the box, and if I wasn't cooperating, they'd stick that little key in the hole and twist, making the spikes draw a little closer to me with every turn. I wasn't doubting the idea that they could easily rip through my skin, through _me_.

"Well, Derek, what's it going to be? Are you going to cooperate, or are you going to cause trouble and force me to put you into my own version of the Iron Maiden?" He asked.

I glanced between him and the torture device. I needed to play this smart, and being hardheaded and stubborn wasn't going to get me anywhere. They'd hit Chloe for it, they'd gotten me for it. They were expecting us to cause as much trouble as possible. And that could work to my advantage. I dropped my gaze to my knees, as if I was honestly thinking about it. Finally, I looked up, making my voice as sad as possible. I made it seem like I'd really given up.

"You promise me that Chloe will be safe?" I asked. Watson gave a nod, a promise that I knew was a lie. If we were children, I would have expected him to have his fingers crossed behind his back. I still managed to keep my face and voice devoid of my secrets and said, "Fine. I'll cooperate. What do you want to know?"

# # #

Whitney

I looked down at my duffel bag. I couldn't take _everything_, as much as I wanted to. I needed to pack light this time around. I was only planning on going up to New York to break my parents out of whatever prison they'd been put into, and then I was going to go back home and pretend like none of this had happened. Whatever I left behind here Uncle Simon could mail to me, or if he was feeling particularly sore about the fact that I'd ignored his instructions, I could drive up here myself and get them. What was important was that they didn't matter, not really. They were just objects that didn't have any real value. But a few of those things – the cheapest things, really, held the most value to me.

I sat down on the bedroom floor in front of my bag, slowly emptying it. I hadn't unpacked it at all while I'd been here. I'd been under the impression the entire time that I was going to be able to do something. But now that it actually came down to it, I realized that I'd been pretty dense to think that they'd just let me go eventually. It should've been obvious that they weren't going to help me. I'd had to do things for myself from the moment that I realized my parents had gone. What was to change that now?

I bit my lip as I separated things into piles – things to take with me and things to leave here. I picked up my favorite pair of jeans and held them in my lap for a second. If they were torn up during this trip, I'd be annoyed. But they would definitely make me feel more comfortable. With a sigh, I'd decided to put it in the pile to take with me. I continued going through my things, taking my time. Zander wouldn't stop me. Coe _couldn't_ stop me. Uncle Simon wasn't here to breathe down my neck. It was actually nice to have a little time to do something without having to worry about people finding out. When I was younger, being a spying ninja was something that I'd wanted to be. Now, I'd had enough spying to last me for a while and it had only been a couple of days.

I was almost done unpacking when I came upon the book. I picked it up gently. It was the only thing that had ever told me about my parents' pasts. It was the _reason_ I was sitting here today. Well, not the book itself, but the story it held. If my parents hadn't been part of an experiment, if they hadn't gone looking for answers, if they hadn't forced a win against the Edison Group, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be sitting here, trying to find a way to get them back. The only other option would be that I wouldn't be sitting here _at all_. I wouldn't even have been born if my parents hadn't won against the group that had planned to get rid of them forever. I bit down on my lip and ran my fingers over the front page. If I brought that book with me and it was destroyed, I'd be upset and Uncle Simon would have my head delivered on a silver platter. But it held the past. I stared down at it. Maybe it could help in the long run. There were some pretty helpful descriptions in there that were bound to help. I thought about it for a moment longer before placing it on top of the pile that I was taking with me.

# # #

It wasn't hard to fit everything that I'd wanted to in my duffel bag. A small backpack would have sufficed. I wasn't about to go digging around for one, though. My bag was already outfitted with secret compartments and extra sewn-in pockets. I took a deep breath and took a step back, putting my hands on my hips. I felt like I'd gotten a lot accomplished, though it had only been unpacking my bag and repacking half of it. But my bag, all zipped up and sitting on the end of my bed, was a visual promise that I was going to be leaving soon.

I was debating whether or not to hide it for now (I was planning on leaving first thing in the morning) when the bedroom door opened. Immediately, as if I was doing something wrong and secretive, I stepped forward, blocking half of my duffel bag from view. The moment I did, I realized that it was the wrong thing to do. If I had acted like nothing was going on, Zander wouldn't have given me a look that said he knew I was doing something that I shouldn't have been doing. But now, his eyes alighted on me, narrowing for a moment, as if he thought that just his glare alone would get information out of me. I turned away from the door, trying to pretend like nothing important had just happened.

"What are you doing, Whit?" Zander asked, stepping into the room. As I turned to sit on the edge of the bed, I caught a glimpse of his eyes darting around the room. It was as if he was looking around for something to incriminate me, as if I'd stolen important documents or the bedside table that stood in between our beds. I worked to keep my face devoid of emotion as I sat down by my duffel bag, pulling my knees up to my chest.

"Nothing," I said, watching him. He seemed a little stiff, a little nervous. He didn't exactly seem at ease. I couldn't help but wonder why. The only reason he'd be acting this way was if he knew that he was going to directly go against me, in which case I would be upset. Zander was a werewolf, stereotypically defined as being violent and aggressive. But Zander was anything but. He could be scary if he needed to. He could fight his way out of anything, and he wasn't hopelessly squeamish. But he wasn't going to lash out without any reason to. Zander was honestly one of the warmest people I'd ever met. He was always working to make sure that my mom and I weren't upset. It was like he had some sort of woman-protecting mindset installed into him. It was sort of admirable since chivalry was dead and all, but sometimes he was _too_ perceptive. It was almost as if growing up trying to make sure that my emotions weren't out of whack had given him privy to my deepest thoughts. Or maybe it was just because I yelled out what I was planning on doing.

Zander didn't seem convinced, but he let it go. He sat on his own bed, leaning back on his pillows, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. He took a deep breath, letting out a sigh. "You know, I didn't think that you were insane until you said that you wanted to go chasing after Uncle Simon. I know you want to help them, but Uncle Simon seems to have it handled. Us getting into it will just cause problems. And you heard him. He said that they might want _us_. If we run into there without the knowledge that he has, we're going to be captured just like our parents."

I glanced over at him. Zander was very rarely negative. That was solely my job, along with my father when we could agree that we were screwed. "You don't think it's worth it? We made a family agreement that we would always be there to help one another. It's breaking that promise if we just lay here and let someone else take care of it. They wanted _our_ parents. It's wrong for us to get someone else into it when it's _us_ they're after."

"What makes you think they're after us?" My brother turned to look at me. His eyebrows were drawn together, like the thought hadn't crossed his mind. Sure, Uncle Simon had said that we might end up getting captured, but apparently he didn't read into that. If they just wanted us gone, they'd try to kill us. They wanted go through the trouble of trying to capture us.

I shrugged. It had made sense to me. But that might have just been my paranoia kicking in. If my dad didn't have a significant dose of paranoia, I made up for it. I was always looking over my shoulder, always assuming the worst in people until they proved otherwise. I was sure that it drove my mom and Zander crazy, but it was something that I did without thinking about it. That kind of stuff is the hardest stuff to break. It's _ingrained_. "Why would they have followed us when we first found mom and dad missing? If they didn't want us, they wouldn't have bothered. Or they just would've killed us."

"Your optimism is shining a ray of sunshine on my day." Zander said sarcastically. I couldn't help but laugh. My sarcasm was usually cynical, but Zander rarely sounded so droll. I sniggered, trying to hold back my laugh and ending up with a short snort. He glanced over at me and smiled. I took a deep breath and moved to sit crisscross. "But seriously, how can you be so sure?"

"It's just a feeling. And I guess it's a precaution, too." I told him.

"Do you really think they're after us?" He asked. He hadn't sounded like such a little boy since we were kids. It occurred to me that my brother, the one that had always managed to keep the peace and stay optimistic, was worried. For once, he needed someone else to help keep _him_ grounded. And I was faced with that scary moment of not knowing what to do. Zander had always been the one that had kept me calm, and when it came to taking care of him I was clueless.

I settled for honesty. Sure, it sucked, but in the long run it would help him. At least, I assumed it would. I wouldn't want to be lied to, even if it gave me a sense of security. A false sense of security, that is. "I can honestly say that I have no clue. But I would say that it's safe to assume we're on some sort of hit list."

His eyes met mine briefly, and then he looked away. "Do you think we're going to be able to save mom and dad?"

"Of course," I said, giving a slight scoff.

"And do you think that we'll get out of this okay?" He asked quietly.

I paused. There was always the chance that we wouldn't make it. But there was always a chance that we wouldn't wake up in the morning or that we wouldn't make it home after a day of school or work. The future was unforeseeable. That was what made people so scared of it. That was what made _me_ so scared of it. "We can always hope," I finally said.

"So does that mean you still plan on going?"

"Zander," I said calmly. "If you told me that I only had a fifty percent chance of making it, I'd still do it." I realized half a second after I said it that it was true. My parents would stop at nothing to keep us safe. I was returning the favor. Besides, where would I be without them?

My brother nodded. "Fine," He said finally. "I'll go with you if you really want to do this."

"I guess I've got some bad news for you, because I'm really going to do this." I motioned towards my bag. "I'm already packed." He started to sit up. Apparently he hadn't thought that I would get things ready so quickly. "Hurry up and pack 'cause we're leaving first thing in the morning."

# # #

Coe

I wasn't sure if they knew that I was listening in. Simon was right. Whitney was something else. She was already planning to go after him. I had no idea what they were planning on doing or how they were planning on doing it, but it was clear that they weren't wasting any time. Whitney had said it herself – they were leaving in the morning. Not only was she putting herself at risk, but she was also dragging her brother into it, too. I would bet, though, that Zander wouldn't have it any other way. He seemed like the protective type, despite his exceptionally gentle nature.

With the two of them planning to leave, I couldn't just stand off to the side and let it happen. I'd promised Simon, and I was a man of my word. I would stop them because I said I would. But I couldn't help but lean against the wall in my bedroom and strain my ears. I was sure that they wouldn't be talking so freely if they didn't know that I was standing in there, eavesdropping. Usually I had enough sense of privacy to just tune out the extra sounds that my ears picked up, but this time it was crucial. Their safety was technically in my hands, since they were willing to throw it all away.

But even then, I _agreed_ with her. She had said that they'd promised to take care of each other. That's what family _was_. It was what I believed it was, anyway. My brothers had a different idea. My father had just been looking out for me and everyone else that were connected to werewolves. But I was the only one that wanted to protect him after he'd been prosecuted for wanting change. I was the only one that had returned the favor. At that time it had just been standing by his side. But in the aftermath I'd realized how close I was to losing my life. I'd had to watch my father and my brother die. I still hadn't figured out how I managed to escape, but I had.

And then there was the fact that she was doing it for honorable reasons. She wasn't going for the adventure, but she was going because she _had_ to. Something compelled her enough that she was willing to risk her life and go. I'd heard her say as much to Zander. And he had agreed with them. I'd grown up in a place were selfishness was important. It was how you stayed alive. But here, in the _normal_ world, selflessness was the better of the two.

I guess I'd always known that I stuck out in that place. If it wasn't for that reason, it was for a million others. My brothers had been rowdy, and I had been, too, back in the day. We'd fought each other as often as we could. It was play. At least, until we got older and the fighting turned from being a game to being serious – cuts and scrapes and bruises that weren't the result of a few games. I guess that's when I first started to pull away from them. And after they betrayed my father we stayed as far away from each other as possible. I was the strange one that still had a sense of family commitment. And now, it was nice to see other people with the same emotions.

I stayed against the wall long after they stopped talking about their future adventures. I could hear Zander moving around the room, packing his bags. And I'd heard Whitney leave the room. She was probably in the kitchen, or maybe she was doing a thorough search of Simon's studio. That definitely would've been at the top of my list if I was planning on a secret trip to New York.

I stood there for a while, thinking about how scary it was that Whitney and I had the same train of thought for the majority of things. It was scary to think of how much we had in common. And I couldn't help but feel another stab of protection for her. It even extended to her brother, but it was definitely stronger for her. I couldn't even begin to wrap my brain around what it meant.

With a sigh, I stood up, stepping away from the wall that split the two bedrooms. And, like a sign, I caught sight of the backpack that I'd had with me when I first showed up at Simon's door. It had been hidden in the closet for as long as I'd been here, but somehow in the fray of the day, it had managed to show up.

Even if I wasn't a believer in signs, I probably would've made the same decision.

**Once again, I feel like it has been such a long time! Earlier I mentioned viruses on my computer that had been cleared up. It turns out that they **_**weren't**_** cleared up. So I've finally got everything fixed today (note to self: don't try to fix computers/electronics by yourself) and immediately went to type up this chapter right here. (:**

**I hoped you guys enjoyed it! And I know I had something else to say but I've forgotten, so it must not have been that important. Anywho, you guys know the drill – review! Thank you all for reading. You guys honestly make writing this THAT much better! :D Peace (:**


	12. The Possibility of Trust

**fireicegirl16 – Thanks for the information. I'll look into it. (: And I'm glad you've really started to love the characters. Is it strange to admit that I already love them?**

**elizi02 – I thought about giving you a reply that was like "Oh, you'll have to wait and see…" but that can be answered in this chapter, so… I'll just thank you for being a reader and kindly reviewing! :D**

**Crixtine – Honestly, I'm pretty excited to have you guys find out what Derek says about the fact that Whitney and Chloe **_**met**_**. If it isn't obvious, I'll let you know that Derek was totally **_**against**_** Coe, partially because of some of his past (which is still a secret, muahaha) and partly because he's so protective over Whitney that he can't see her getting with anyone. Besides, he wants her to stay as far away from werewolves as she can.**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_12: The Possibility of Trust_

Whitney

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. My nerves were so shot and giddy that I couldn't even get a good six hours of sleep. I was sleeping in fits and starts, aware that I'd probably dreamed, but if I did I couldn't remember anything. It felt like one of those sleepless nights, where the hours passed as slow as days. Or, I guess, as quickly as minutes, depending on how you looked at it. I glanced over at the clock for the third time in the past ten minutes. When I was awake, the seconds ticked by painfully slow. When I was sleeping, it felt like I'd only been sleeping for a few milliseconds.

Over the clock, I could see Zander. He was snoring softly in his own bed. I couldn't imagine how he slept. I wished that I could fall into a deep sleep just like he did. At least he'd followed my advice and gotten in some sleep. It was funny, though, because Zander could've slept in the car while I drove, but I couldn't sleep while driving. Out of the two of us, I was the only one that really _needed_ to sleep.

I glanced at the clock again and sighed. Only one minute had passed. It was just nearing four in the morning. I'd planned on getting up a little before six. By six, I planned on having the car packed with our stuff, the two of us heading down the street. It would have to be silent because I didn't need Coe trying to step in and ruin things. He knew that I was planning on leaving since, in a fit of rage and annoyance, I'd blurted it out. But he didn't know _when_. I was hoping that he expected that he had a few days to try to get to me. It had taken Uncle Simon a few days just to decide that it would probably be wise to meet up with his half-sister. I figured that it was safe to assume that Coe thought he had a little while before I made my big getaway. Besides, he'd probably be thinking that I would sneak out in the dead of night. By waiting until morning, I was giving my plan another slim advantage.

I looked up at the ceiling, pretending to count the dips on the plaster. I couldn't really see them, but it was giving me the illusion of doing _something_. I was just itching to get up and push Zander out of his bed and tell him to hurry up and get packed. Or maybe I could let him sleep for the next two hours while I slyly snuck our stuff out into the car. But I had the feeling that Coe was waiting up for me, waiting for me to do something stupid. I chewed on my bottom lip. _Just wait. At six, I'll get up and toss everything into the back of the car. It'll be fine_. With a heavy sigh, I rolled over and pulled the thin sheet over my head.

# # #

I woke with a start. A incessant beeping was coming from underneath my pillow. It was the one watch Zander had tossed into his bag. It had become my alarm for the morning. Quickly, I fiddled with the buttons, hands still under the pillow. I didn't want to draw it out in case Coe was a light sleeper. Or maybe he was even awake. Wherever he was, I didn't want to tip him off. Finally it stopped, and I rolled out of bed.

Zander was still snoring, so I quickly threw on a comfortable pair of jean shorts and a loose T-shirt. My dad had hated the outfit – he said it didn't leave enough to the imagination. But my shorts were fingertip-length and my shirt was _loose_, so I didn't see the problem there. Still, thinking about it made a pang of homesickness shoot through me. I let out a shuttering sigh and leaned over the narrow way from my bed to Zander's, shaking him awake.

"Get dressed and get your stuff together," I said. "And for God's sake, _be quiet_." I whispered. Zander just rolled out of bed, his feet hitting the floor with a thump that made me wince. I bit down on my lip to keep from snapping at him, and instead threw the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder and across my chest. I scooped up my pillows in one arm and wrestled the door open with my free hand. I had a feeling that this was going to be the hard part – getting past Coe's door undetected, since it was in between me and the front door. I took a deep breath and stepped forward gingerly.

The toes of my sneakers gave a tiny squeak on the tile. I let out my breath, pausing to strain my ears. When I didn't hear Coe moving around in his room, I scurried past the door like a scared mouse, slowly twisted the handle of the front door, and quietly let it swing open. I headed straight down the steps and fumbled with my keys for a moment, trying to find the unlock button. Finally it clicked and I pulled open the back seat, dumping my duffel bag onto the seat. I tossed in my pillows and a single blanket that I'd taken from Uncle Simon's hall closet.

I headed back into the house and grabbed Zander's bag. I heard him in the bathroom. I slung his bag over my shoulder and motioned for him to raid the kitchen for food while I tossed his bag into the car. I rushed back inside and slipped into the bathroom myself, brushing my hair out of my eyes with my fingers. Once I deemed myself ready and I was sure that I had everything that I wanted or needed, I headed towards the kitchen. Zander was zipping up a little baggie. He nodded to me, shut the fridge behind him, and together we headed down the steps.

This was it. This was what I had come to Georgia for. Finally, I was going to go help my parents. I wasn't just going to be hanging around with nothing to do. I was _Whitney Souza_, for God's sake. I wasn't about to let someone else handle something that had almost everything to do with me. I glanced at Zander, my heart pumping with adrenaline. And I couldn't help but feel elated. Even though I knew that this was dangerous, I couldn't help but think of it as an adventure. And honestly, that's what it _was_.

As I hurried to the car, I rushed to the car, looking over my shoulder to make sure Zander was following me down the steps. He closed the door softly behind him, locking the doorknob. I couldn't help but feel that burst of excitement. I mean, it _was_ an adventure. It was for pretty depressing reasons; but even so, I could taste the adrenaline in the air. I stepped up to the car and tugged on the handle of the driver's side door. I jumped back, uttering a low oath.

Coe sat in my seat, fingers playing with the keys I had left in the front cup holder. He glanced up at me, his face fairly blank for a guy who had just managed to pull one over on me. If I'd been him, I would've been extremely smug. Zander, who had stepped up to the passenger side door, let out a low growl. Coe didn't react to him, or to me. Only when I let out an angry half-scream, half-growl did he look up at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise, but it was also a little bit in a sheepish way.

"What are you _doing_?" I demanded. I couldn't help but put my hands on my hips defiantly, taking a stance that I was comfortable with. I narrowed my eyes at him, debating on whether or not to yank him out of my car. What did he think this was going to do? It _wasn't_ going to stop me, that was for sure. All it would amount to was a raised stress level and a smudge of anger on my part. Coe swallowed. I could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. His eyes met mine, their bluish color so intense that _I_ almost swallowed. "Well?"

"I…." He shook his head, rubbing his thumb over the edge of my car keys. "I promised myself that I would make you stay here, that I would keep you out of danger." His eyes darted away from my face. I was almost sure that they connected with Zander's, but I couldn't be one hundred percent positive. "And I heard you last night," He said. Immediately I wanted to smack myself. Why hadn't I taken his presence into consideration when I talked Zander into coming with me? I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I opened my mouth to say something, but Coe continued. "And I realized that no matter what you did, you would try to leave. And so my best chance of making sure you didn't get yourself killed was go to with you."

Zander scoffed. "You want to go with _us_?" He called it out like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. At the same time, I asked, "You _want_ to come with us?" My voice was quiet, demur. Zander looked up at me, his eyes wide. I was sure he was freaking out about this. _I_ was freaking out about it. The first thing that came to mind when Coe said he wanted to join us was to agree and tell him to get his butt in the back seat. Zander set his bag down on the hood of the car and came to my side. I couldn't remember the last time he'd looked so determined as he took a hard of my arm. Coe sat up a little more in his seat, like he thought he might have to get involved.

Zander actually _sneered_ at Coe, a low growl slipping out from between clenched teeth. It was a face that said he was the alpha here. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, since I didn't want him to get a big head and think he could boss me around. _Nobody_ bossed me around. Even so, I let him pull me away from the car. Already taller than me, Zander leaned forward to whisper to me feverishly. "Please tell me that you aren't really thinking about letting him come with us." I must not have answered fast enough – not that he really gave me a chance – because he hissed, "What are you thinking, Whitney?"

I pulled my arm away from him, giving him a sharp glare. "I was thinking that it might help to have someone else. Besides, he's a wolf. He has training. He's _experienced_." I said. If Coe's story about breaking away from his father and running away from everyone was true, then he had some street knowledge that I didn't.

Zander lowered his voice even more. "Think about it. I think he made a deal with Uncle Simon." Zander said quietly. "I don't think he would just _promise_ himself that he was going to take care of someone he doesn't even know."

"How do you know, Zee? You'd do it." I shot off. My brother stopped, frozen. His eyes, blue like our mother's, searched mine for a second. And then he sighed and shook his head.

"Fine," He said shortly. "But you're watching him, not me." I bit down on my lip, shocked by his attitude. Zander almost _never_ acted like that. The only reason he would be so sharp was if he really didn't like someone. It was obvious now that he really didn't like Coe. I didn't know what it was. As far as I knew, the two of them had never come to an altercation. The three of us had been in close quarters for days. I figured that it had to be something with the wolves – two wolves that didn't know each other and weren't too pleased with the presence of another.

Zander walked away from me, his footsteps on the driveway exaggerated. I sighed and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. I took a deep breath, trying to reign in my emotions. I wanted to yell at Coe for eavesdropping, for thinking that he could just walk up and expect to join us. But I wanted to thank him for offering. And then I wanted to slap Zander for acting that way, but I wanted to hug him for being my brother. And then I wanted to kick them both out of my car and go on my own, but I knew I needed the help. I couldn't do this on my own. With another deep breath, I turned to look at the two of them. Coe was still sitting in my seat, one leg half out of the car, an expression on his face that said he was debating on getting out of the car. Zander leaned against the passenger side, his back facing me. I could see his arms crossed over his chest.

I stepped up to my open door and leaned against it, holding out a hand. Coe dropped my keys into my palm and stood up fluidly stepping out of my seat. We stood so close for a moment that if I looked up, our faces would only be inches away from each other. As it was, my nose nearly poked him directly in the chest. I found myself holding my breath as he stood there for a half a second longer than was considered normal before sidestepping me. I motioned for him to climb into the back. With a bright smile, he pulled open the back door and climbed into the middle of the bench seat, Zander's stuff on one side of him and mine on the other. For the first time, I noticed a large black backpack that didn't belong to either of us. The way Coe picked it up and set it on top of my pile of things, I assumed that it was his. He had _planned_ this, just the way I had. Except this time he'd outsmarted me.

I'd get my revenge.

I sat down in the driver's seat. Coe's scent – I wasn't really sure what it was, but it was something that was warm and natural – surrounded me. How long had he been sitting there? Zander opened up the door a little too roughly for my tastes. Usually I would've turned to face him and barked out that he needed to be careful with my car. But I kept my lips shut this time. Obviously, he was a little more on edge than usual, and I didn't want to be the one to push him over it. Zander and I were _allies_, and we needed to stay that way.

My brother sat down, slammed the door closed behind him, and pulled the seatbelt across his chest. I looked in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Coe pulling the belt across him in the backseat. I put my key into the ignition, leaned forward to get one last look at the house, and put the car into reverse.

# # #

Zander

I didn't want him to come with us. He didn't have a place with us. He was… I don't know. I just knew that deep down inside, I didn't want him in the same breathing space as me or Whitney. Whitney especially. I'd seen the way he looked at her. Honestly, I wasn't sure what it meant, but there was something more than an awkward acquaintanceship. I wasn't even sure if it was a _friendship_. But it was still there.

I wished that I could say it was the main reason that I didn't like Coe. But seriously, I thought it had a lot to do with the wolf that was seated deep down inside. I hadn't started any pre-Changes. Usually those didn't happen until you were older, Coe's age, probably. My dad had been different. He'd had his first Change at sixteen, my age now. But he'd been supercharged, affected by whatever it was that those scientists did to his cells. I, on the other hand, had showed no signs of Changing. It meant that I was safe… for now.

Even if I didn't, the wolf inside still had a mind. He was still howling inside over the fact that Coe was nearby. I didn't think it would've been that big of a deal if he didn't _smell_ so strange. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't like it. I figured it had something to do with the fact that neither of us were considered Pack but we were both from different families. Dad didn't smell so distant to me.

When I got in the front seat, it was like I'd been slammed by his scent. I wanted to turn around and ask if he'd bathed in a bottle of cologne, but I didn't. Whitney was already stressed and on edge, and my tense outburst hadn't helped at all. I'd even felt a little bad after snapping at her, but I couldn't figure out how to take a step back and apologize for it. I'd let her settle for a little bit. Hopefully she'd understand.

I turned away from Whitney, angling myself to face the window. New York was quite a way away from Georgia. It was at least a sixteen hour drive, and Whitney had planned it to take us at least two days – eight hours for each day. Hopefully we could get there quickly, with a minimum amount of stops. Hopefully we could get there and help our parents, get there in time to help Uncle Simon and Aunt Tori.

I hoped we could get there before I really got into an argument with Coe.

# # #

Derek

I thought, for a minute, that Watson was going to let me out of my cell. Hope grew like a balloon in my chest for a moment, but it deflated when he waved away his torture device. The door stayed open behind him, probably to allow a quick escape if he needed it. I tried not to obviously eye it, but I couldn't help but give it a quick glance every now and then.

"Please, stay seated," Watson said, motioning for me to stay put. I knew what he was doing. I was a werewolf, after all. Signs of dominance were in my area of expertise. He was trying to make a point that I had to look up at him to meet his eyes. I fought the urge to stand up and have him look up at me. "Now tell me, Derek, where are your kids going?"

I swallowed hard, my brain scanning through options. I swallowed, giving myself more time while trying to seem like I was debating on whether or not this was a good idea. Finally, I sighed. "They're going to a friend's house."

"Where is it?" Watson asked, his eyes narrowing in on me. My brows drew together, as if I was really trying to think about this. I wasn't good at this type of stuff. Chloe had been the one that had taken acting classes. I was the one who had advanced math and science. "Derek," Watson tsked, "You do realize that if you don't help, it's the Iron Maiden for you _and_ darling Chloe."

My control was slipping. A growl slipped out of me and I almost stood up to shove Watson out of my cell. Chloe was _mine_. For him to even think about touching her made my blood boil. But I needed to keep my cool. I took a deep breath and leaned back on my cot against the wall. "Utah," I said it quietly, as if I was uncomfortable telling him.

"Why Utah?" Watson asked, his brows actually drawing together. I remembered the fact that Whitney and Zander had been able to outrun the guys that had been chasing them. They had no idea what she drove unless they'd been watching the house, and I had the feeling, by their lack of knowledge, that they _hadn't_ been. And even then, Whitney and Zander had fake IDs and license plates.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. I tried to give him a sly smile. "It's unassuming," I replied. Really, it was because I'd never really heard of anything interesting in Utah, besides large rock structures. And it was big enough that they'd have to comb the entire state to try and find them. And even then, they wouldn't be there.

Watson actually grinned, like he thought it was funny. "Smart thinking, Derek," He said. I had the feeling that he honestly believed me. It put me a little on edge. Most of the people I talked to were untrusting for the most part. I'd already decided that Watson was insane, though, so what was the big deal about him accepting a total lie? "What's the address?"

"I don't know." I said. I shook my head, as if I should've thought about this before. "I called my friend on a throw-away phone. He had just moved. I didn't know the address. It was with Whitney's things. If something happened to me and Chloe… well, she was supposed to take the envelope and go to his house. They were supposed to lie low and enlist his help."

"What's his name?" Watson questioned, leaning forward. The smile on his face was truly evil. And I was surprised – he was actually buying it. If he wasn't, he was much better at acting than I was.

"I'm not for sure. He goes by different aliases. I'm not even sure if _I_ know his real name. He went my Jacob Rigsby when I knew him." I said.

"Why send your kids there, if you don't really know him?"

"You know what my kids can do. They're strong enough to take care of themselves. And Jacob owed me a favor." I said. "Watching Whitney and Zander was my payment."

"What did you do for him?" Watson asked.

I was digging myself into a hole, each lie digging up another foot of earth. Soon, I wouldn't be able to see the flat ground anymore. "I took care of some guys that were giving him a hard time. Jacob was a runner." I lied smoothly.

"Did you kill them?" Watson leaned forward, truly interesting in my answer. I had the feeling that he was more interested in that than the other answers. He didn't really care about where Whitney and Zander were, not as much as he cared about whether or not I had permanently destroyed someone.

"What does it matter?" I asked, allowing a hard edge to creep into my voice. If I could seem mysterious, the better it was for me. Watson had to stop asking questions eventually.

"Very well," The insane doctor said. He nodded towards me. "Thank you for your cooperation. And believe me, Derek, if you've lied to me, your punishment will be tenfold. As will your wife's." He turned to leave the room. I stayed sitting where I was until the door closed behind him and the guards. He seemed like he believed me, and if he did, I had a few days to try and figure things out. A week at most. Hopefully, Whitney and Zander had made their way to Simon's. Simon and Tori would be able to break us out of here, I was sure.

But for now, Watson was busy scouring Utah.

God help anyone named Jacob Rigsby in Utah.

# # #

Watson

I had the feeling that Derek was telling the truth. It was always questionable with a man like him, but I had taken extensive zoology classes. Wolves were different than man. More primal. They cared for themselves and their mates first, and then their children. When caged, they attacked. When given an exit, they took it. And I'd watched him. Derek seemed more in tune with his wolf than others did.

I'd seen the battle in his eyes. The distrust he put in me. But I was a man of my word. I'd promised him that he and his wife, little Chloe, would be safe. That is, unless he was lying to me. I'd made another promise, this one to be kept just as well as the first. I would _not_ hesitate to do testing on them. Davidoff had failed with his experiments – half of them did not succeed, and the other half had a low amount of useable statistics. Science was statistics. He should've seen that, should've known that. And so I would finish it.

But first. Utah. Those children of his, while being fully able to destroy a couple of my useless employees, they couldn't stand up to me. I had been indestructible for these years. I had the strength of hundreds on my side. They would come with me, I would use them for my experiments. I would become famous. I would have a name in this world, an award, a prize for all my work.

And then I would let them go. After that, they were useless to me. I would find a way to get rid of them, so the secrets to my success would never be unearthed. I would take it to my grave.

"Go," I said to the guard next to me. He stood tall and silent, strong enough to protect me from Derek. "Get a group together to go to Utah. We've got some half breeds to catch."

**What did you guys think? I know it took a while to build up to this, but this is a very important part of my story. I hope you've all enjoyed it.**

**Also, I wanted to thank you all for taking the time to read/review this story. It's thanks to you guys that I continue to write. I am forever thankful for you. (:**

**Please, as always, review. And don't forget to spread the word of this story. I would love to see as many people as possible read and review. Peace. (:**


	13. Memories

**elizi02 – I feel sorry for anybody named Jacob Rigsby. (And believe me, if there is someone out there by that name in Utah, I'm totally **_**not**_** stalking you. And if there is, good morrow to you, sir! You've ended up with the very strange role in my little story.)**

**fireicegirl16 – As a general rule to myself, I don't write any explicit or intimate parts into a story. No offense to anyone, but I don't understand the need for something like that for a love story. Yes, it's part of the relationship, but not everyone needs to know the details. As for the births of Whitney and Zander, they may be mentioned, but once again, I won't go into extreme detail. And thanks for not thinking I'm weird (: lol**

**Crying Silently – Being a liar? I think it's both good and bad. (;**

**Neveah17 – It's one of my favorite lines in this story, too! **

**Crixtine – It seems that these past couple of weeks has been unusually busy for everyone (though my impending week is looking to be God-awful.) As for drama-free, well… you know my writing by now. Nothing is ever drama-free, because where would the story be? :P**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_13: Memories_

Coe

The car smelled like Whitney. It was nearly intoxicating. In his corner, I could pick up the strange scent of Zander – mostly the scent that told me he was wolf. A little of it lingered around Whitney, probably because she was in his family; his pack, the one that his father headed. But that was underneath the sweet smell she had. It was something sweet; so sweet that it could even be sickly sweet. But I liked it. It was like a candle that you couldn't put down even though continuously breathing it made you sick.

As Whitney pulled out of the driveway, I settled into my seat. This was bound to be interesting. I'd never learned how to drive. My dad had been in the process of teaching me when he'd starting getting in trouble for his attempts at change. After his death and the following death of my brother, it just didn't seem so important anymore. And after I ran away, it was more trouble than it was worth. It required certificates and social security numbers, things that I had but didn't want to have down on public record, in case _they_ were looking for me. They had probably given up, since I couldn't really cause any trouble to them. The only thing they'd want me for is the fact that I had gotten away in the first place. Hunting me would be a game, and I wasn't about to make it easy for them.

I leaned on the pile of bags at my sides. They had to be Whitney's. Even though they didn't have any girly paraphernalia, I could smell her on them. Those were her things zipped up in that bag. I leaned back in my seat, putting a foot on either side of that strange bump in the middle of the floor. We rode in silence for about two minutes, only down to the stop sign, when Whitney reached out and pressed the radio button. She turned the volume dial up slightly with the side of her thumb, her eyes still on the road. The popular pop music of today started playing out of her speakers. I smiled to myself. I hardly ever listened to music; when I did, it was the classical rock that my dad had always listened to. I was more of a reader. I even had a few books in my backpack. They'd presented extra weight, but I figured it wouldn't be that bad to carry them. But I didn't move to get one of them out. Instead, I watched the two siblings.

Zander stayed silent, slouched in his seat. At some point in the past five minutes, he'd kicked off his shoes, his socked feet on the dashboard as he continued to look out the window. He was quiet, unmoving. Whitney stayed silent, too, but her fingers were tapping the beats on the steering wheel as she drove. I couldn't help but smile at it. I'd always known people that were deeper than what they seemed, but I also had met people that were shallower than a tide pool. Whitney, though, was one of the very few people I'd ever met who was so layered that I couldn't even see what really made her who she was. Zander was easy to read – he expressed his emotions without shame. But Whitney seemed like she was just bottled them up, only allowing things that would make others take a step back from her seep through. She had more defense mechanisms than army equipment. Maybe it was my need for challenges, or maybe it was just the curiosity of her, but I wanted to get past those barriers she'd put up. To find out who the _real_ Whitney Souza was.

In all honesty, it was a miracle that they had let me come with them. I could tell that Zander had been completely against it, and that didn't surprise me. He and I had never fought, verbally or physically, but it was understood that we didn't occupy the same air space for too long. What had really surprised me was Whitney. I figured that she would be fighting against me, telling me to disappear and get out of her way. Instead, she was fighting _for_ me. Zander had led her away pretty far, but I was still able to pick up a little bit of their words. Or, at least, their tones. Whitney's voice had been pretty soft, as if she was trying to talk him into letting me join them. Zander had sounded annoyed and definitely angry. Yet here I was. And now that I was here, I was all the more determined to stay. And nothing would get to the two of them if I had anything to do about it.

# # #

Simon

I should get to Tori's house in New York City today. Liz hadn't been with me for a while. I figured that she would just meet me at Tori's house, where she would help us plan. I assumed that she had gone to see Chloe, or maybe she'd gone to check up on the kids. I found myself clenching the steering wheel a little tighter. I hoped that I'd done what was right in leaving them there at my house, especially since I'd made Coe promise to keep Whitney and Zander safe. I'd seen that look that he'd casted at Whitney. It was the same look Derek had lent to Chloe before they realized how deeply they cared for each other.

I snorted at the memories. I had always been a little too confident for my own good, and that had extended to my attitude with girls. In my sixteen-year-old mind, I was _the_ guy to go after. I'd always felt a little better, a little more confident, when I had a girl vying for my attentions. And, honestly, I think a part of it had to do with the fact that contact with someone else, a deep contact like that, would make me feel more like I belonged where I was. We had traveled all the time when I was younger. By the time I should be in high school, I'd wanted to get somewhere and _stay_ there.

Chloe had been mine first. It was an interesting and different situation. I hadn't really heard that many stories of a guy landing a girl, only to have her stolen away by his brother. But it had happened to me. That first time I'd kissed her after an ice cream date, I'd realized that she was holding back. And when I'd asked her about it, I realized that she was clueless to it. Chloe was inexperienced, she didn't understand her own emotions. And it's safe to say that I didn't understand my own either. But that day, I'd understood. It had hit me like a wrecking ball. There was someone else.

Chloe and Derek had never really gotten along, not at first. Derek didn't like her, Chloe didn't like him. Derek thought that she was extra weight, Chloe thought that he was a bossy, controlling teenager with anger issues. But that one time, near Syracuse, I think it was, they'd gotten off the bus while I'd been asleep, and when I woke up they were gone. Traveling with Tori had been one of the most trying times of my life. But we'd made it to Andrew's without killing each other. Shortly after our arrival, Derek and Chloe showed up as well. But that was when something really changed.

Instead of just doing their best to tolerate each other, they were always going at each other. It was like they were picking out the flaws or the mistakes of the other person and displaying them for everyone to see. But instead of making them pull further away from each other, it pushed them closer than ever. There were times when Derek was there to help Chloe, and I'd only caught a glimpse of them as I struggled to keep Tori contained. There were times when the two of them disappeared together, only to return with possible intel and an even tighter bond.

And that night, when I kissed Chloe, I realized what it all meant. Afterwards, I thought I was stupid for not realizing it before. They _liked_ each other. And it was more than just friendship, which was all that Chloe and I had. Derek had effectively stolen the girl without anyone realizing it. Without _him_ realizing it.

I remembered when I walked back to the house. I was just inside the woods when I saw Derek lift Chloe's chin. She'd been crying, and I'd felt horrible for causing it. But now I could see if my theory was real. At first, Derek had blamed her for hurting me. And it was true, sort of. I'd been hoping that I had found someone that could stick by my side for all time. But then, I'd hurt her more than she had hurt me, hadn't I? She didn't realize that she'd fallen for Derek. I'd known that there was something off with her, and I'd gone for it anyway. It was by my own fault that the two of us came to an altercation. But I hadn't come forth when they stood there, looking at each other. Their hissed whispers, the shock on Derek's face when she blurted out that I thought she liked him instead of me. Derek had followed her when she said she wanted to walk, and then she'd finally turned to go inside.

Derek turned around to find me. But I'd come out of the woods by then. I'd seen the confusion in his eyes, and I knew that his confusion would turn to anger. When Derek didn't understand something, his frustration levels shot through the roof. He stalked over to me. I knew that he would never hurt me. He was my brother, and sure, his anger was scary, but he would never lay a finger on me. "What did she mean by that?" He demanded, his voice low.

I shook my head. "She doesn't like me, Derek. She likes _you_," I shot back, my own frustration coming out of me when I least expected it. It was not smart to mess with a wolf, especially an angry one. My dad had told me about it, and Derek had always hinted at it. He was worried that he'd hurt someone else the way he'd hurt that guy that tried to stab my face. And that had been it, I'd gone to my room, shut off the light, and ignored both of them for a couple hours.

And that was how the two of them realized their feelings for each other. All these years later, they were married and they had their own kids. And I'd stuck Whitney with Coe, two people that were so alike but so different from each other. Had I done it again? Had I stuck two people who shouldn't go together with each other _again_?

I had a feeling, though, that in this case, Derek really _would_ kill me.

The thought crossed my mind just as I reached the outskirts of New York City. Now I had to deal with traffic, trying to get to Tori's apartment. She'd given me general directions over the phone, and I glanced at the sheet as I sat at a stoplight. Luckily enough for me, she and her husband, Rick, lived just inside New York City. It shouldn't take me that long to get there.

An annoying forty minutes later, I reached their apartment. It wasn't anything like what Tori had lived in last time she'd lived in New York, in Buffalo, where her mother was insane and her father wasn't really her father. But she was happy here with Rick. I managed to find a parking space a good block down, and then I had to walk into the building and up the stairs to her apartment.

I knocked on the door, and it was just a short minute before it flung open. Tori, just as I remembered her, was on the other side. I was expecting a snide remark, but instead she practically flung herself at me, wrapping me in a hug. "Simon," She said, "Come on inside."

# # #

Chloe

I closed my eyes, wishing that I could just go to sleep. I'd never been so bored in my life. All of those times when I'd been at home and I'd thought there was nothing to do… I missed those days. Being locked up in a cell with _literally_ nothing to do was going to drive me insane. The only way I could pass the time was to keep my mind thinking. And the only way to do that was to pull up memories.

I searched in my mind for a memory that would bring me some happiness. The first memories that came to mind involved Derek or the kids. They were the only ones that had stood by my side and supported me through all these years.

My mind immediately went back to seventeen years ago, the very moment I'd found out that I was pregnant with Whitney. Derek and I had been married for about two years by then. It was safe to say that I was scared to death. And Derek hadn't been much better. Surprisingly, I was the one that received the news better than he did. We were both excited, but Derek was also _terrified_. We'd had a brief run-in with some of Derek's family. That had only been months after we escaped from Davidoff with the help of the demi-demon. They'd only wanted Derek because they wanted him with his own kind. We'd still managed to escape, but even so, they'd remained on Derek's mind. And now that we were having our own baby, the worry of what it would be had him so scared that he'd even debated getting rid of it. Of her. We hadn't known at the time that our little baby would be a girl. Derek was worried about a boy – the werewolf gene traveled through the boys, only affecting a girl if she was changed by blood. And then he'd been worried that the mix of the two of us, both of us supercharged, would create a monster.

I'd had to work to keep Derek from talking me into going to the doctor. I had to go to one, a doctor who told us that our baby's heartbeat was incredibly fast, but other than that, it was healthy. It had been months until we could find out whether it was a boy or a girl, and for Derek, that was the turning point. When we'd stared at that ultrasound and the woman told me that we were having a girl, Derek's shoulders relaxed and he dropped his head in his hands. He was _relieved_.

I knew that Derek loved our baby girl just like I did, even though she hadn't even been born yet. From the beginning, Derek followed me like I couldn't breathe on my own, even before I was showing. He was offering me a hand to step down from a curb at a grocery store. He was opening my car door and leaning over the center console to help me buckle my own seatbelt. He was in the kitchen, opening the oven door and making sure that the coffee maker was brewing. More often than not, I'd caught him leaning outside the bathroom door while I showered, as if I couldn't wash my hair by myself. He was breathing down my neck from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed, and probably even while I was sleeping, too.

Derek's doting only got worse when I started to show. He started trying to stay home from work, thinking that I couldn't walk around the house on my own. It was endearing, but annoying. And no matter how many times I'd told him that I hadn't lost an arm or a leg, he was adamant that he needed to be there for every moment.

As we drew closer to my due date, Derek acted like we were going into war. Every day, he checked the bags that we had packed for our trip to the hospital as if they'd somehow changed overnight. My due date had come and passed. Even then, Whitney had been hopelessly stubborn. She was determined to come on her own time, and like I'd come to realize was normal with her, when we least expected it.

When I told Derek that it was time to go to the hospital, I thought he'd had a heart attack. He raced to the door and grabbed all the bags in his arms, rushing out to the car. He'd started it, had everything stacked in the back seat, and then he returned for me. I'd waddled out into the hallway, wincing. That alone had made Derek panic. He practically grabbed me and carried me out to the car. I was pretty sure that he'd sped to the hospital the whole way, and then he'd sat by my bed while we waited for her to arrive.

I think that was the hardest part for him. It wasn't like the movies, where a woman went in to have a baby and came out holding her little bundle of joy. There were _hours_ in waiting, in pain. I wanted the epidural, but I had to wait for it. I winced so often that I was sure Derek was going to pass out from all the anxiety it was causing him. I tried to make it seem like it didn't hurt, but it did. Having a baby is no easy feat. Derek squeezed my hand until his grip became too tight, and then he held his fists so tight he was shaking. He really was taking it worse than I was.

And then she'd been ready to come. Derek had stayed with me, donning the blue nurse's coats that had been given to him. And when she let out her first cry, Derek sank against me. I didn't cry. I was too tired to cry. But when I looked up at Derek, he had tears in his eyes. The man that I'd grown to love, the man that I'd fallen in love with and married… I'd never seen him cry. He had always been the strong one in the relationship. But now, with our little girl getting cleaned up and checked out, he was breaking down.

That brought tears to my eyes, coupled by the fact that we'd just brought a little girl into the world. For once, Derek didn't worry about what she'd turn out to be. He could've cared less then, because he loved her so much. And seeing him accept that, to push away something that plagued his every thought, was so amazing. He gathered me in a hug despite the fact that I was sweaty and tired.

From that moment on, Whitney was his little girl. There was not a moment where I couldn't find the two of them together. Derek was the best father imaginable. He was always playing with her, always talking to her, and when she got older, he was explaining things to her. They went on adventures in the backyard together. He took her to the park and watched her play on the slide.

I should've known that Whitney was going to end up just like him – incredibly stubborn, challenging, and completely wrapped up in what was right and what was wrong. She lingered over decisions just like he did, she overthought just like he did, and she jumped into a fight just like he did.

I smiled at the thought of the two of them, and wondered if Derek missed her just like I did. I was sure he missed Zander, too, but Whitney had always been our first. Zander was so open that Derek had a harder time identifying with him. But Whitney… they were two peas in a pod, and I knew he had to missing her, despite the fact that recently they'd been in so many arguments I'd lost track of how many a long time ago.

I sighed, knowing that, hopefully soon, we would be back with our kids one day.

# # #

Whitney

It had only been six hours, and we'd already stopped twice for bathroom breaks and snacks. But I couldn't live off of peanuts, candy, and extra-large sodas for much longer. I saw a popular fast food burger joint and pulled off the highway, pulling into the parking lot.

"What happened to the drive thru?" Zander asked. He even sounded a little put out. That was probably because he'd taken off his shoes within the first ten minutes of driving and had only put them back on when we stopped somewhere. But I was tired of sitting for hours at a time, and my eyes were tired. I probably should've given Zander the wheel somewhere during the day, but I was too controlling to even really think about it. Zander's driving record hadn't exactly been the best – he ran into the neighbor's mailbox the first day he had his permit – and I wasn't willing to risk him crashing my car. Granted, he was bound to be a better driver now, but I was determined that I would handle it.

"We're going inside." I said back, grabbing my wallet out of the center console. "Put your shoes on and hurry up. I'm hungry." I added, yanking my keys from the ignition. Zander continued to grumble, and I didn't hear anything from Coe. I realized that I hadn't heard anything from him in a while. I glanced into the rearview mirror as I opened my car door. He was fast asleep in the back seat, his feet on either side of the raised bump in the middle of the backseat, leaning on the pile that was his backpack and my bags. I found myself smiling at him. Zander glanced over at me, turning to look over his shoulder. He saw what I was looking at and leaned over to punch me in the arm. Immediately, I retaliated.

Zander and I hadn't fought for a long time. And we'd never actually _fought_. Sure, we'd trained together, but that was different. That was even different than this, which was just antagonizing each other. I found myself laughing. Coe woke up with a start, his arms flailing up like he needed to protect himself. He tried to make it look like he was just fixing his hair, but it didn't fool me. I laughed again, turning in my seat to look at him. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," I said to him as Zander pulled on his shoes, "Come on. We're getting dinner."

Coe nodded, sitting up and rubbing his face with his hands. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair before opening the back door. He had to climb over our bags to get out, ending up on the same side of the car I was. I smoothed out my shirt and stretched out my arms and legs while we waited for Zander. "Hurry up, Zee," I said, moving to the front of the car. He sent me a glare as he laced up his shoes.

Together, we walked into the restaurant. It wasn't really that crowded. The smell of grease made my stomach grumble. It was definitely a good idea to stop here because it would've been impossible to last with just those peanuts until tomorrow. The people working behind the counter didn't seem too keen to serve us, so we stopped to look at the menu. I picked through the prices in my head, determined to save as much money as possible. It really wasn't that expensive, and I definitely wasn't planning to stay on the dollar menu (that stuff is rarely ever enough.)

Eventually, we all ordered. While I paid, the boys filled up their large drinks and found a place to sit. Zander returned after they found a seat to grab some of the trays. He grabbed mine and his own, leaving me to carry Coe's. I stopped to get myself a drink, and then I headed in the direction Zander had taken.

Behind a wall that I was sure was meant to be decorative, the boys had chosen a table. Well, they'd chosen a booth. I slid Coe's tray in front of him, standing at the end of the table for a second. They had set it up to where I'd had to choose a side – sit with Zander, or sit with Coe. As I stood there for just a second, debating it, I realized that I shouldn't have even had to think about it. It should've been clear to me – sit with Zander. He was my brother, and Coe was virtually a stranger.

And then I wanted to smack myself for thinking about it so hard. It was a _seat_, for thirty minutes at the most. And I was acting like it was something much more. I took another sip of my drink and slid onto the bench seat next to Zander. It was where I was supposed to go.

I shouldn't even have been thinking about it, but I was. I dumped my fries out onto my tray, trying to ignore the feeling that coursed through me. Why care about where I sat? It wasn't that big of a deal. And the guys weren't even making a big deal out of it. Zander had already started chowing down on his burger, and Coe was digging through his fry container. I watched the two of them for a second before dousing my pile of fries with a few packets of ketchup.

Just as I was about to take a bite, I happened to look up. Coe was sitting across from me, and his eyes were on me. When our eyes met, he flashed me a quick, easy smile. It was so… so honest. He didn't look like he was hiding anything from me. He didn't even look like he thought that this whole thing was just something to do, or even like it was a pain. He acted like he wanted to be here.

I found myself smiling back.

**Sorry for such a long wait. I've had an intense writer's block for the last couple of weeks, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come up with a chapter. I'm debating on the future of this story (I'm still writing it, but I'm trying to decide what major things will or won't be happening in the next few chapters.)**

**I've got a question for you guys – what do you think about a short story, just a few chapters, showcasing what happened between Simon and Tori on their way to Andrew's house? It's just an idea right now, and it may never happen (don't get your hopes up) but it might be an interesting project in the future. (:**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Like always, I'll be annoying and ask you to spread the word of this story. I'd really like to hear your thoughts as well, so leave me a review. Believe me, there is action in the near future! Peace. (:**


	14. Growing Closer

**fireicegirl16 – Yes, I did get that little bit about Derek's family from Kelley's blog and the short story. **_**That**_** was what I forgot to mention in my last little ramble at the end of the chapter. Thanks for reminding me! [And to all of you that have no idea what I'm talking about, go check out Mrs. Armstrong's blog!]**

**Crixtine – I debated on whether or not Simon and Tori should be closer, but I figured that, as grown-ups, they would eventually get over their petty emotions towards each other and learn to really care about each other, since Tori is not completely devoid of any emotions. I always imagined Derek as being very emotional with something about the birth of his child. And I always figured that he would be a good father. I have no idea what it was that gave me that idea, but there you go. And lol! Death by shampoo would not be a very glorious way to go. And, on that little story, I wasn't really sure if I was going to write it, but now I don't think I will. I was unaware of the fact that Kelley had already written in. I shall go in search for it!**

**Crying Silently – I figured you would enjoy that chapter. And if you liked that one, you will really like this one! (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_14: Growing Closer_

Liz

I popped into existence just inside Chloe's cell, dangling from the light. I dropped to the floor, effectively scaring her. She jumped, almost as if I'd torn her out of a reverie. And then she'd smiled at me. "Sorry," I said in a whisper, though she was the only one who could hear me. Still, old habits die hard, and Chloe never mentioned it. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You're fine." She said quietly. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, brushing her wavy hair out of her face. She looked like she could do with a shower, not that she looked bad or anything, but she looked like she wanted one. And honestly, yeah, she did look a little bad – there was dried blood in her hair, a considerably lesser amount than what had been in her hair the last time I'd been by, but it was still there. I figured that they wouldn't treat her like an animal, but they weren't allowing her much.

"Don't take this the wrong way," I said gently, "But you look like you could use a shower."

"I think a bubble bath is more in order," She replied. I smiled at her. Over the years, Chloe had shed her shy, quiet attitude and had become more the woman she was today – a woman who could, without any troubles, keep her werewolf husband at bay. She had a sarcastic streak that I hadn't known about when I was alive, but she'd always retained the ability to be superiorly kind and loving, even to strangers. She sighed, brushed her hand through her matted hair again, and said calmly, "Did you make it to see Whitney and Zander?" All I did was nod. I could see her face light up, as if she were soaring just at the idea that her children were safe. For a moment, I felt a pang of jealousy and regret. I would never have that same emotion. I would never be able to look at a little girl and think that she looked like me. I would never be able to look at a man and think that I'd fallen in love with him and the he was the only one for me. But I quickly reminded myself that it wasn't Chloe's fault I was dead. "How are they?" She asked.

I sighed and gave her a smile. "They're okay. They're staying at Simon's. He's in New York. He just got to Tori's apartment, actually. I hung out there long enough to make sure he got there before coming to see you." I told her.

"Simon's in New York? And he left Whitney and Zander at his house?" She seemed concerned. She had to be aware of the fact that her daughter took after Derek. Whitney was _not_ going to stay in Georgia if she had anything to do about it.

"They're safe there." I told her. "Besides, Simon made a boy promise to make sure they stayed there."

"A boy?" Chloe asked, her eyebrows drawing together. But then she seemed to realize something, and her eyes grew wide, her skin going pale. She brought her knees up to her chest, hugging herself as if she were scared. I couldn't imagine why. Simon trusted the boy, so he couldn't be that bad.

"Forgive me for saying this, but, you look like you've seen a ghost." I told her.

Chloe grinned, but I could tell that it was forced. "Coe was still with Simon? I figured he would've moved on by now…."

"Where was he supposed to go?" I asked, cutting her off. I sort of felt bad about it, but it was sort of out of character of Chloe to not think about him, where he would go, what he would do. But then again, Whitney and Zander were her children, and they would always come before a stranger.

Chloe shook her head. "I don't know where he would've gone. I just figured that he wouldn't want to hang around with Simon. He's like Derek," She told me quietly. "He's a werewolf. I don't know much about him, just that Derek sent him to live with Simon because he didn't want to draw any more attention to ourselves." She sighed. "For a while I wondered what had happened to him. But then I didn't ask about him anymore, and neither did Derek, apparently. And Simon never mentioned him in phone calls." I shrugged. I didn't have an answer to that for her.

"Chloe?" I asked. She looked up at me, and I moved to sit beside her on her bed. "Do you trust your daughter?"

"Of course," She answered, glancing over at me. "Why?"

"Do you trust Simon?" I asked her, ignoring her question.

"Yes, Liz. I'd trust Simon with my life. Where are you going with this?"

"Simon put Whitney and Zander in Coe's protection." I told her. "But you should see the way Coe looks at Whitney. It's sort of the way Derek looks when he's thinking about you." I wasn't sure how she was going to react. I figured that she would hope that Whitney could find a love as strong as the one that Chloe shared with Derek. But maybe she wouldn't want it to be with Coe.

She just shook her head. "When Whitney was younger, it was easy to think of never losing her. It was easy to think that she'd always be with us, that she would never fall in love or get married. Of course, I wanted that for her, but I didn't want her to leave." She said. She glanced over at me. "If Coe's what she wants, then that's her decision. But I can't say that Derek will be happy. Sometimes he doesn't even trust himself around me. _Still_," She added. She shook her head. "But my little Whitney has grown up." She looked over at me and added, "Do you think Coe will be able to hold her back? Whitney is a force to be reckoned with, and I know she'll want to get in on the action."

"That's what Simon was wondering," I said. "And honestly, I guess we can only hope." We sat there in silence for a minute, and then I said, "I should probably go talk to Derek. I need to let him know that Simon got to New York."

"Liz," Chloe said suddenly, her hand starting to reach out to me. I paused, looking back at her. If she reached out to touch me, her hand would just pass through me. But she still saw me as alive. To her, I was still a human being. I knew that it was just the way she saw me, but I couldn't help but feel that little bubble of elation in my chest. "Please don't tell him about Coe and Whitney. I wouldn't mention Coe at all, not yet. He'll be… well, I figure he'll be angry, and we're all already on edge."

I nodded. "My lips are sealed, Chloe." I told her. She smiled at me, a smile that was honest but slightly forced, a smile that said that she was scared and that she wanted to get out of her cell. She mouthed a thank you to me as I headed towards her light. It was the only way to get in and out of her cell. I managed to squeeze myself through the small area that had remained un-enchanted. Fortunately, Derek wasn't far. I slipped into his cell, falling just the way I had in Chloe's cell. But this time, I didn't scare him. He couldn't see me the way Chloe could.

I moved towards him, wrapping my fingers around the hem of his shirt. I gave the cotton a quick tug. Derek sat up, his fingers brushing over the hem of his shirt. I watched as his hand passed through mine. He looked like he was about to lay back down when I tugged on his shirt again. He straightened up, scooting to the end of the bed. I stood back, waiting for him to realize that I was there.

"Liz?" I reached out and picked up his pillow, throwing it at him. It hit him square in the face. He stood up, shaking out his hair as he bent to reach under his mattress. He pulled out the papers and pen that I'd managed to sneak to him. "What was that for?" He asked, picking the pillow up and tossing it onto the bed.

_I just thought it would be an interesting way to let you know I was here. Hello, Derek._

"Hi, Liz," He said back. "Please tell me you went and saw Whitney and Zander. Please tell me that they're okay."

_They're fine. They're at Simon's house. Chloe is fine, too. She is still next door. And Simon got to Tori's today. _

"Simon's in NYC?" He asked. I scribbled a quick _yes_ onto the paper, and he took a deep breath, relieved. "What about the kids? Did he just leave them in Georgia?"

_Trust your own children, Derek. They're smarter than you think they are. I've got to go – I've got get to Tori's and help with the planning. And then I'll be back to see you two. I might even check on Whitney and Zander._ I wrote. _Goodbye for now. Take care._

"Wait," He said. I paused, and he shook his head. "Liz, if you're still here, please listen up. I've told Watson that the kids are off in Utah, with a friend that went by the alias of Jacob Rigsby. Hopefully, he's taken the lead and he'll be gone. You might want to take a look around and see what's going on before you do whatever you're planning."

_Thanks for the info. I'll check it out. And I'll tell Simon and Tori._

"Thank you Liz," Derek said quietly. I nodded even though he couldn't see me, and headed for the only exit in the room. I was off to find Tori and Simon, and hopefully we could get everything in order. This couldn't wait much longer. We needed to get Derek and Chloe out of Watson's grasp as soon as possible. I paused at the roof, and then decided that it would be best if I went straight to Tori's apartment in New York City. I closed my eyes, imagining the space that Simon had drawn out on a piece of paper for me. Hopefully, it would be enough to get me where I belonged.

# # #

Tori

Finally, Simon had shown up. I looked him over, taking in his natural blonde hair and his almond-shaped eyes. When Kit had dropped the bomb that my mother had figured out how to get what she needed from Kit to have me, I'd nearly had a panic attack. It meant that my father, the man that I'd grown up calling _dad_ had never really been my father. And that meant that, in a twist of fate, the half-Korean boy that I'd once had a crush on was my half-brother. As messed up as it sounded, I was actually a little relieved. Of course, I'd been hopelessly angry at first. I'd stormed around the house and ignored Simon and Kit, and knowing that my relation to them, by default, made me related in an adopted sister-like way to that brute of a man, Derek, had made me more upset than I could've imagined. And then I'd found out that Chloe knew, told by a demi-demon the first time that we'd been captured, and I had felt like I couldn't trust anyone.

But now, years later, I was relieved. Because it meant that, while my deceased mother was insane, my father, or the man that I had thought was my father, wasn't who I was related to. I was not a descendant of a man who couldn't bother to come pick up his own daughter when she needed him. I was a descendant of a sorcerer who had traveled around the world looking for his sons. A real father. And even though a child born out of a witch-sorcerer relation was a volatile mix, I still considered myself lucky. My relation to Kit was probably why I could not only pick up my witch spells so easily, but I could also pick up on sorcerer spells. Simon had been absolutely livid when he'd found out, but it was the truth. It made me stronger.

I yanked my half-brother into my apartment. It wasn't even close to being as grand as the house I had lived in in Buffalo when I was sixteen, but it was eons better than the safe houses and motels that we'd stayed in when we'd been on the run. My little apartment was my home. It was _mine_. It wasn't just some place to hide out and pretend like we were safe. "It took you long enough," I told him, dragging him into the kitchen. Rick was in there, pouring himself a bowl of cereal despite the fact that it was nearly ten at night. "Rick!" I called out, making Simon sit down in one of the kitchen chairs. "Come in here!"

Rick hadn't been my husband for that long, just a few years. Surprisingly enough, I waited quite a long time to get hitched. But it was probably a good thing that I did. It wasn't until I was in my thirties did I meet the fire half-demon. Rick had immediately stolen my heart with his humorous personality, sarcastic streak, and his knowledge. Yes, I like smart guys. And Rick _was_ smart. He read classics and actually knew his way around a computer. That was something that I could greatly appreciate. Besides that, he was handsome, with his sandy hair, blue eyes, and dimples.

"Hey, man," Rick said, holding out his hand to Simon. They shook, and I rolled my eyes. It was sort of like being transported into the past, when these guys thought they were cool. At least when they were younger, there was actually a _chance_ of that being true. Now they were just old guys that were trying to relive their younger days.

"This is no time for niceties," I said abruptly. I grabbed a hold of Simon's arm and motioned for him to take a seat at the table. Simon sat down, and I motioned for Rick to sit. He sat down, too. The two of them looked up at me as I paced in front of the table. "This is serious business. We need to figure out how to get Derek and Chloe away from that crazy scientist."

"Wait. What's wrong with Derek and Chloe?" Rick asked, his eyebrows drawing together.

"You didn't _tell_ him?" Simon asked, looking at me incredulously.

"Rick has anxiety!" I shot back. I turned to face my husband, softening my voice. "Sorry, babe, but you know how you get when you think that the scientists are coming for us. Chloe and Derek have been captured, probably by whatever remains of the Edison Group. They're close to Buffalo."

"We're going to help them, right?" He asked. In my peripheral vision, I could see Simon rolling his eyes. I sent him a short glare.

"Of course we're going to help them. That's why Simon's here." I replied.

"Do I need to take off work?" He asked.

"Just call in sick." I replied, waving away his question. "Hopefully it won't take too long."

"Did you take off work?" He asked, persistent.

"_Rick_," I said, exasperated. "Can we get to the point?" I turned to face Simon. "Where's Liz? You said Liz was coming with you. She has information, right?"

"I don't know if she's here right now." Simon replied. He pulled a wad of folded papers from his pocket and spread them out on the kitchen table. "But this is what she drew me at my house. It's a basic drawing of the building they're being kept at. They're in the center of the building. But they kept them right next to each other. Literally." He tapped a finger on the two letters that were written on the page. "Liz said that most of the building is enchanted so that she can't get through. She has to travel in between the walls, so she may not have gotten everything."

I picked up the paper and turned it around in my hands. I could feel my eyebrows drawing together as I looked at it. Liz had marked the entrance on the paper, but the rest of it just looked like a jumbled mess of lines. "No offense to anyone, but this looks like a five-year-old drew it." I said. "I can't read this."

"It's a blank aerial view, Tori. It's not _going_ to be easy to read." Simon replied, plucking the pages out of my hand. I turned to glare at him, and, like we did when we were teenagers on the run together, he smirked back. I was halfway annoyed, but the other half was actually relieved to have him here. As much as the two of us had clashed, it was nice to know that I had someone that I could trust.

"Do you think that's foreshadowing? That it's basically saying it's going to be nearly impossible to free Chloe and Derek?" Rick asked. Simon passed the crude map to him, and he spread it out on the table. Rick ran his fingers over the lines as he looked at it. I couldn't begin to imagine why. He had all these weird things that he did. I figured that they helped with his anxiety.

"Nothing's impossible for us," I said. "When we were teenagers, we practically blew up the building."

"We tore it down," Simon amended. "With the help of a demi-demon."

"You made a deal with a demon?" Rick asked, his eyes going wide.

"Not _me_. Chloe did." I said back nonchalantly. "And it was a demi-demon. Don't worry about it. She didn't even hang around to help us get out of there because the big bad demon king or whatever he was came by and made her leave."

"Maybe it was for the better." Rick offered.

I rolled my eyes, pointing at the map. "Let's focus on the present, okay?"

# # #

Watson

I made sure that we had everything loaded onto our plane. It was a private jet, so we didn't have to deal with the airport digging around in our bags and questioning our equipment. I probably could've gotten by with licensing done by Mr. St. Cloud, but I wanted to prove that we could do this without his help. Instead, the private jet was flown by a pilot I had nearly black-mailed into flying us, and in the seats were a bunch of my men – some of them humans, some of them supernatural.

As much as I hated supernaturals, they could be useful, when they were under my control. I smiled to myself as the last bag was thrown into the belly of the jet. Off to Utah it was, then. I would find this Jacob Rigsby, and then I would bring back the half breeds. I would show the werewolf and his mate what happened when they ran across me. Because nobody could ever get past me.

# # #

Whitney

I hated driving at night. It wasn't really because of the lights from other drivers, though it was annoying when they left their brights on, but it was more like the creepiness that seemed to settle all around the car. On the highway, with a countless number of light poles, it wasn't that bad. But on back roads where the only light came from your car, it was easy to imagine shadows moving on the side of the road.

After dinner, Zander had promptly gone to sleep. It sucked because he was the one with the high-tech GPS that I'd taken out of my dad's car when we'd been leaving my house. I had it turned off for the majority of our ride, in case whoever was chasing us was able to tap into it. But now it was sort of important that I find a hotel to stay at. The GPS had hotels, restaurants, and gas stations listed on it. All I had to do was turn it on, have it pinpoint our location, and give me a cheap motel to stay at. I hadn't driven the full eight hours, but I was tired, and it wasn't anything that I couldn't make up tomorrow.

"Zander," I whispered. I reached over to nudge him. "Zander," I hissed. He was out, though. It seemed like half the time all he did was sleep. I debated pulling off of the highway and onto the freeway. I needed gas anyway. At the station I could probably find the GPS if Zander hadn't stowed it away somewhere. I tried to keep my eyes peeled open as I flipped on my blinker to pull onto the exit. We cruised down the frontage road. In the distance, I could see one of those cheap motels. Its sign said that it had vacant rooms.

It looked like I didn't need the GPS after all.

I pulled into the motel parking lot. I found an empty space – most of the spaces were empty, actually – and surveyed the rooms. It _looked_ like a cheap motel. There were two levels. At opposite end of the parking lot was a shack of a building that was the front office. On either side of it were the actual rooms. The stairs looked steep, and the banisters that blocked the second floor doors from the edge of the walkway looked covered in gum. But it was a place. And it was cheap.

"Where _are_ we?" The voice came right over my shoulder, making me jump. I realized a second later that it was just Coe, and then I felt stupid for freaking out like I did. I looked over at him, surprised to see how close he was leaning in. Just a little more and his chin would nearly be resting on my shoulder. Granted, I imagined that he wanted to stay as far away from Zander as possible, with the way the two of them were nagging at each other like old women in a salon.

"A crappy motel," I replied in a low whisper. "But it'll have to do for the one night. You think you can handle it?" I tried to make my tone teasing. For some reason, I wasn't just pretending that he was there like I'd planned. Even though he still managed to get under my skin, there was something about Coe that I liked. And I honestly couldn't stop myself from being… well, from being nice to him.

"I've slept outside on the ground in the middle of December." He answered. I bit down on my lip, feeling a little bad for saying anything. When someone answers a question like that, it really makes you feel like a spoiled brat. I glanced over at him to actually say that I was sorry – a rarity – and I noticed his smile.

He was teasing me!

"Jerk," I whispered. "And to think I was actually going to apologize to you."

"You were going to say an apology?" He asked. "I mean, I know we haven't known each other for long, but…." He let out a low whistle. Immediately, I giggled. I _giggled_. What was wrong with me? I tried to snap myself out of it, turning to look at Zander and see if Coe had woken him up.

"Shut up, punk," I replied. Coe actually burst into a fit of laughter, holding his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. I looked over at Zander, who moved a little bit, but still stayed asleep. I glanced over my shoulder at Coe, who was still grinning. And I found myself smiling at him. In one day, the guy had managed to make me smile _twice_ at him when he was totally on my Watch List. "Come on," I whispered, parking the car. "Let's see if they have a room that isn't laden with diseases."

"Good luck finding that here." He replied.

I couldn't help but flash him another grin because, honestly, it was funny. It sounded like something that I would say. I pushed open my car door and stepped out. Coe followed, shutting his door nearly soundlessly behind him. I locked it, grasping my keys and my wallet. Together, the two of us walked towards the main building.

"Well," I said conversationally, my voice still a whisper despite the fact that we were out in the open. There was no one there to bother. "This is creepy."

"It _is_ a motel on the side of the road." Coe paused in his walking, and I stopped to turn and face him. He had an inquisitive look on his face. "In fact, wasn't this the setting of that slasher movie? You know, the one that was based on a true story?"

"_Shut up_," I hissed with a short bark of a laugh. Coe laughed with me, and I couldn't help but notice how… well, how happy I felt. It had felt like it had been such a long time since I'd actually been _happy_. My days were filled of worries about my parents and New York, and my nights were filled with horrible dreams where we didn't survive, or at least, we didn't succeed. But somehow, even though I had initially decided that he was to be viewed from afar, Coe had managed to wiggle his way past my defenses.

I pushed open the door to the front office. A woman was sitting behind the counter, her curly hair done up like a ratty beehive from the sixties. She looked like she would've been in her late thirties, but there was something about her that just made her seem _older_. It probably had to do with the pile of cigarette butts in a glass ashtray in front of her. The air in the room was filled with smoke, and I swallowed the urge to cough. Coe did the same, ducking his head down to his arm, as if he was wiping his nose or something.

"Hi," I said, my fingers tightening on my wallet.

"Whadya want?" The woman asked. She looked bored. I mean, I would be too, if I was working in the scariest motel between Georgia and New York. But she looked like she needed a good half a year of sleep, if not more. There were bags under her eyes that were a deep purple and wrinkles that shouldn't have been on her face if she was as young as I thought she was. Her nails were cracked and yellowed, as were her teeth.

"Um," I said. "A room?"

"Then you've come to the right place." She croaked out. Her voice was ragged, too. What cigarettes _hadn't_ done to that woman, I wasn't sure.

"How many beds in each room?" I asked. I thought it was an innocent enough question, but the woman looked in between me and Coe, and then down at the key.

"I've got some rooms with two twins. That good?"

"That's great. Is there like… a couch that pulls out, too, or something?"

The woman raised her eyebrows, looked down at her sheet, and then picked something up off of the counter. The first thing I thought was to duck, but that was because I thought she was bringing up a gun or a Taser or something. That showed how paranoid I really was, because it was just a paper carton of cigarettes. She pulled one out, flicked a lighter, and then puffed the smoke straight into my face. I held my breath, debating on whether or not to cough on her for it.

"One room with a couch," She said. "It don't pull out." I bit down on my lip to keep from commenting on her bad grammar. It always managed to get under my skin.

"That's fine," I said in a tight voice, still trying to hold my breath. The woman took her time getting the key to the room, and all the while I was sure my lungs were shriveling up.

She finally handed me the key and said, "Fifty bucks."

I pulled out a fifty dollar bill from my wallet and slapped it onto the counter. I then turned and, on instinct, reached out for Coe's hand. I ended up grabbing his wrist and hauling him out of the front office. The moment the door was open I let out whatever air I'd been holding in my lungs and took a deep breath. "Jesus Christ," I said in a whisper. "Talk about secondhand smoke."

"Tell me about it," Coe replied. He reached for the keys to the motel room. On instinct, I pulled my hand away, raising my arm a little higher, as if that would deter him. He was taller than me, so I didn't know why I thought it would work. He gave me a smirk and reached for the keys again. I stuck my tongue out at him and moved them a little higher, putting a hand out at arm's length to stop him.

Coe stopped trying to reach for them. "What, are you going to give up _already_?" I asked, dropping the keys a little lower. I should've expected it. I really should've. Because it was what I used to do to Zander when we were kids. Heck, I still did it now. For a moment I really did think he was going to give up, and I let down my guard. At that very moment, he lunged for the keys. I let out an embarrassing, girly squeal as his arms folded around me, reaching for the keys. I found myself laughing as I struggled to keep the keys away from him. His fingers dug into my side, trying to tickle me.

I wasn't going to give in and call mercy. Mercy was another game Zander and I played, where one of us would antagonize the other until they called out mercy. It was always amusing when you were on the giving end. But even from a young age, I'd always wanted to win Mercy, even if it was Zander bothering me. I tried to pull away from Coe, yanking back and going to duck under his arm. He twisted at the last minute, closing me into a cage. I tried again, pulling away and going to slide on the pavement. Just as I did so, I heard a car door open.

"What the _heck_ is going on?" The sound of the voice made me slip and miss where I was placing my foot. Instead, I stomped down on Coe's foot, falling down. He tried to move so that he wouldn't step on me and ended up falling face-first to the ground. Luckily, he'd managed to untangle his arms from mine and had caught himself, or else he would've gotten my knee in his gut. The two of us looked at each other briefly and then up to the car.

Zander had clearly woken up and gotten out. He had probably panicked because he didn't know where we were. And when he looked out the window, it had probably looked like we were in the midst of a fight. Zander already didn't like Coe, and I didn't need to give him a reason to dislike him even more; the kid was growing on me. "Hey, Zee," I said, smiling up at him sheepishly. We probably looked funny – me sitting on the ground with my knees up, holding onto a set of keys. Coe had his feet on one side of my legs and his hands on the other, trying to stand up without stepping on me. It was like a game of Twister without the board. I held up the keys to the motel room. "I found a place to stay the night."

**Yay or nay? I want to thank you all for reading my little story here. It makes me smile. :3**

**As always, I ask that you review it and spread the word of it. And if you haven't already, it would be nice if you favorite it. (:**

**I hoped that the relationships are coming along as you hoped (Crying Silently, cough cough) and that you approve so far.**

**And I have a question for you faithful readers! I was debating the ending of this story (yes, I know, this would be one of my very first completed stories. Granted, it's short and not a full-length novel, but… it's a stepping stone!) and by the looks of it, it will run to be a lot of chapters, or it could run into being a sequel. I wasn't sure if you guys would rather have it all on the same page or on another page… so lend me a hand and leave me your thoughts on that.**

**And with that, I bid adieu! Peace (:**


	15. Motel Murder

**elizi02 – Yes, that was my goal. (:**

**Crying Silently – (: I knew it! And as for the sequel, thanks for the input. You're right. I'll have to see where this story leads me before making any final decisions.**

**Crixtine – I can't stay away from these stories! As for the long chapters, I can't stand "short chapters." What's the use in that? Lol. And I'm glad you like the fact that I make sure to say something to you faithful reviewers. I feel like you should get a direct answer to your question or a thanks to your praise without having to go through the private messaging. I'm glad you think that their relationship progress is the right speed. It's hard to find that perfect time for any two characters to grow closer together. And as for the sequel – you can probably guess that things aren't going to be easy for them. I'm still working on the ending, but I might write that "maybe possibly" last chapter and see what you guys think then. [And a story about Coe and Whitney later on is a grand idea. I shall think about it!] As always, I thank you for the input and for being a faithful reader! (:**

**LittleMissWolfie – Glad you think so! I always enjoy a good laugh in a story. (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_ 15: Motel Murder_

Zander

I had no idea what they were doing. When I'd jolted awake from yet another nightmare where I had to choose between my mom, dad, and Whitney, I realized I was alone. And then I'd heard laughing. I had realized, by that point, that I was in front of a motel. And so when I heard the laughing, I imagined that it was just another one of their greasy patrons.

But no, it was my sister. And it looked like she was tangoing with Coe.

My first thought was that they were fighting. That's sort of what it looked like – like he was trying to tackle her, and she was trying her best to get away. But they wouldn't be laughing if that was what they were doing. When I opened my car door, I realized that they were _playing_. Like they were best friends or something. And, if I didn't know any better myself, I'd think that they were flirting with each other, if not _together_.

What was _wrong_ with her? Had she finally snapped? After all this time, being all angry and stoic and disliking Coe, and all of a sudden she's playing keep-away in the parking lot of a nasty run-down motel? I figured that it had to be a sign that she was bipolar. Finally, after all these years. I made a face at the two of them, and then slammed my car door shut.

I was surprisingly mad about this whole thing. I hadn't wanted him to come, but I'd gone with it because she made good, logical points as to why he should join us. She failed to mention that one of those reasons was so she could build a relationship with him. I'd known that he looked at her in that goo-goo-eyed way, but that was _Whitney_. All of these years as her younger brother, and she'd never acted so… girly around a guy before. All of her previous boyfriends were whipped beyond compare, and they were sullen and quiet. Coe was the complete opposite of all those guys that had only lasted a month or two with her.

"What the _heck_ is going on?" I demanded, staring down the two of them. At the sound of my voice, they both toppled over one another. I raised my eyebrows at them. What were they doing, anyway?

Coe managed to look up at me, and Whitney was staring at me like I was a ghost. I could see the flush on her cheeks, but I couldn't tell if it was because of the fact that I'd caught them goofing off or if she was just out of breath or something. "Hey, Zee," She said, giving me that same smile that the neighbor's dog did when it chewed a hole through our fence. That thing hated us, but it had managed to give me that "I'm-sorry-but-I'm-not" look. "I found a place to stay the night." She added, holding up a pair of keys looped together on one keychain.

Coe pushed up, vaulting himself in the air with just his arms. Whitney rolled away from him so he could take a few steps forward to gain his footing. I went to reach out and help her up. Coe, though, took a step towards her and held out her hand. Whitney looked at me, her eyes fairly serious for the apparent fun mood she was in, and took his grasp. I swallowed hard. I didn't like this. Whitney was my sister. She was part of my family, part of my pack. And for another person – especially a wolf that knew better – to just step in and start playing the part of the gallant knight got on my nerves.

I opened my mouth to say something to her, I wasn't really sure what, when Whitney walked by. She gave me a look that told me to shut up. After all of these years, I was still listening to her. My sister was a force to be reckoned with. And it wasn't like she couldn't fight or protect herself. If she decided that I needed to get the crap beat out of me for some reason, she wouldn't hesitate to do so.

And the unspoken law still stands that a guy can't hit a girl. Even if it is his annoying sister.

"Help me carry this stuff in," Whitney said, motioning towards the car. I'd hit the unlock button when I'd gotten out, but Whitney clicked it again a few times as she reached for the back seat. She handed Coe his backpack and went to sling her duffel bag over her shoulder. Coe held out his hand, and I found myself nearly fuming. I wanted the lone wolf, the strange wolf, away from my pack. "I've got this," Whitney told him, cutting off the growl that threatened to rumble from my chest. "I'm not some petty damsel in distress, my God."

Coe chuckled as I yanked my bag out of the car. It got stuck on the back seat, and all I did was pull harder. Usually Whitney was actually protective about her car. There were a countless number of times where she had told me to be nice to it and not slam the doors or put my feet on the dashboard or hang outside the window. But she didn't say a single word to me as I gave the duffel bag one last tug, ripping it out of the seat. I slammed the door shut and glanced over the top of the car.

Both of them were looking at me. "Well?" I said.

"Well," Whitney replied, trying for a tiny smile. I chewed on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling back at her on reflex. I wanted to be mad for now. I wasn't like Whitney. I wasn't going to pretend like I was perfectly fine only to explode later. When she got into one of those moods of hers, it was almost like she was the wolf and I was the necromancer. "Let's get on to this room. It'll only be for one night." She added.

"Hopefully we don't get sick from whatever's living in there." Coe said in a low voice. I debated kicking him, but eventually decided against it.

# # #

Whitney

Zander was madder than a wet hen. I would've never thought that I would use that God-awful cliché, but there it was. He was so mad that I figured he would've stabbed me with a pencil if he had one. And he would've viciously stabbed, too. I forced myself not to look over my shoulder at him. I'd put Coe in front of me because I thought that if the two of them had to follow each other something bad would happen. I didn't know what it was that hit Zander. It wasn't like I was promising to leave him and mom and dad. I was just hanging out with... with a friend. Coe was my friend. Why couldn't he handle that?

"It's room twenty-four," I said quietly to Coe. He nodded, narrowing his eyes at the old doors, paint peeling off and once-golden numbers now brassy as they hung crookedly. I wasn't sure how I felt about having a room on the second floor. It made it harder for us to get down to the car if something happened, but it was high enough that there wouldn't be people trying to sneak in my window. Coe stopped in front of a door, taking a deep breath. "Is this our room?" I asked, squinting to see the numbers. It was room twenty-nine. "What is it?" I asked.

Coe shook his head. "Nothing, I don't think. There's just something off about whatever's in there."

"Werewolf off?" I asked.

"No," Zander said in a low voice behind me. "But there's something not… not perfectly human."

"You mean to tell me you can tell if it's a half-demon or something?" I demanded. I'd always thought that was impossible. Mom had always told me that dad had to work to figure out what she was. He couldn't just smell her and decide that she was a necromancer. It only worked like that on other wolves. Supposedly.

Coe shook his head. "No, we can't do that." Just as I thought. "But… I don't know, I guess. It's sort of like really bad B.O. You can just tell that something is not right."

"So you stopped in the middle of the walkway to talk about someone with rancid body odor?" I asked quietly. Zander gave a low chuckle behind me, but it was dark and sort of humorless. And it was definitely scary. I pushed past Coe and continued on past room twenty-nine. I found our door and put the key into the lock. I glanced down the walkway. Zander had followed me, but Coe was still standing outside the door. He looked up at me, and even from this distance, I could see the blue shine of his eyes.

"Whitney," He said quietly. "I think something's dead in there."

# # #

Liz

They were sitting at a table when I got there. I hadn't seen Tori in a long time. I hadn't come into the apartment before, I just stayed until Simon stopped in front of her door before going to see Chloe and Derek. Time was of the essence, and I knew that I would have time with my old best friend later. Well, now was later.

When we had been teenagers, Tori had been sort of… cruel to other people. That was the way she handled things. I had a feeling that it had something to do with her mother, who had turned out to be slightly crazy and definitely _witchy_. Tori had also been prissy and put together. She'd had a rough streak that couldn't be contained. But now, not only did she look different, but she acted different.

Tori had cut her hair sometime between the time when I died and today. Her hair was shoulder-length, slightly angled like a bob. Her bangs were fluffed to the side, and her face was nearly completely clean of makeup, save for a little bit of mascara and gloss. She was even wearing something that would've been considered clean cut instead of attention-grabbing, dark jeans and a loose white blouse. She sat in between Simon and another man whom I had never seen before. Simon had told me that Tori had married a few years ago. I hadn't though it possible that I wouldn't be at my best friend's wedding, but in my travels I'd lost track of time and hadn't gotten the memo. He was handsome, I supposed. Not in the way that Tori used to find guys handsome when we were younger. I figured that she had matured over the years.

The man sitting beside her had sandy blonde hair, darker than mine and Simon's. He had blue-gray eyes and, when he was smiling as he was then, he had the tiniest little dimples at the corners of his mouth. I wasn't sure what his name was, but I figured introductions were in the near future. I also figured that I needed to find a pad of paper and a pen.

When I'd been alive, before I'd been spent to live at the Lyle House, my grandmother had kept a box of pens and a pile of legal pads in her top drawer. I drifted into Tori's kitchen. It really was small. New York sized, I guess. I reached for the closet drawer and pulled it open. Everyone at the table froze as I looked down at a drawer full of silverware.

I moved to the next one, pulling it open. The guy that I had assumed was Tori's husband looked pale. "Victoria," He said in a low voice. "What else haven't you told me?"

She shrugged. "There are a lot of things from my teenage years that you don't know about. Thank God, because I'd be so embarrassed." She said.

"Yeah. Tori was a monster when we were teenagers." Simon piped up from the end of the table.

"Shut up, Simon." Tori hissed. "My best friend's name is Liz. She was in the experiment with me. They… they killed her." She whispered the last part to Rick, and his eyes grew wide. Tori stood up and patted the top of his head as she turned to the kitchen.

"Your best friend is a ghost?" He asked.

"Of course," Tori answered, walking by me. I could feel the air current that seemed to follow her even as she walked through me. She pulled open one of the top drawers and set a pad of paper on the counter. After that, she dug around in a different drawer for a pen. She put it down on the pad of paper and then leaned against the counter, waiting. "Hi, Liz," She said quietly. "It's been… it's been a long time."

I picked up the pen, pausing to glance at Tori's husband. _It has been. What's your husband's name?_

Tori leaned forward to read the words on the page. "Rick, his name's Rick." She said. Rick leaned forward at the sound of his name, starting to stand up. Simon stayed seated as Rick stood up and joined Tori at the counter. _Hi, Rick_, I wrote. _My name's Liz. It's nice to meet you._

"You, too," Rick said. He glanced at Tori and said, "I don't know why it's such a surprise to me, but you have a really interesting life, you know that?"

"Yeah," Tori replied with a grin. She leaned forward and kissed one of dimples. "Liz," She said, "Please tell me you've talked to Chloe and Derek, right? They're okay?"

_They're fine for now. They're both really worried about Zander and Whitney._ I wrote out. _Derek told me something important. He said that the crazy doctor asked him about Whitney and Zander. Nobody's sure what they want with them. But anyway, the doctor questioned him. Derek told him that they went to stay with a friend named Jacob Rigsby in Utah._

"In Utah?" Tori repeated, looking towards Rick.

"Utah?" Simon called from the kitchen table. He stood up to see what was going on, nearly passing through me to read what I wrote. And then he started laughing. "Utah," He said, musing it over. "I wonder what made him say that."

_I've got no clue. But apparently, it worked. Derek suggests we strike soon while the doctor is gone with a team. I don't know how long we have. Neither does Derek._

Simon glanced up at Tori. "I think we really need to figure out a plan of action. Right now."

"As I remember, our plans were always pretty vague, and they ended up working just fine." She said.

"We aren't kids anymore, Tori. It's a different man than Davidoff. He underestimated us. This doctor seems to think that we can handle ourselves. And that makes him more dangerous."

"Stop worrying about it." Tori said, waving her hand in the air as if she was wiping away his words.

"I know some great stress relievers," Rick offered.

Simon shook his head. "I don't _need_ stress relievers. What I need is a plan. This isn't just a game anymore."

"I never said it was a game." Tori replied.

I picked up the pen and scribbled out a note, passing the pad of paper to Rick. _Their fights are worse than a volcano explosion_.

"You've been in a volcano explosion?" Rick asked, a smile crossing his face. _Ha-ha_. I wrote on the page. Rick smiled even wider, and we both turned our attention to Tori and Simon.

"My point is that when we were younger, we weren't sure what our goal was. We had no idea what we were going up against. And honestly, we were _lucky_. Some of those things had been just good placement and timing." He said. "And now that we don't have Derek or Chloe, we're screwed. Think about it. Chloe talked the demi-demon into tearing down the building. Derek did a lot of the fighting. What good are we?" He asked, exasperated.

I had never really noticed how uncomfortable Simon was. I knew he wasn't happy with the fact that the experiment had worked on him. I sort of wish that it had worked on me. I figured that it was better to be alive than dead. But for him, it sucked. He had to look at Tori, who the experiment hadn't succeeded on, and who had three times the power Simon did. He just wanted to stay caught up with everyone else. Tori had extreme powers with her spells, Chloe was a lighthouse on a coast to ghosts, and Derek was stronger, agile, and had super senses. And, when we were teenagers, all Simon had really perfected was a knock-back spell and a fog spell. He'd always been a little behind. But he had been the comic relief. Without him, everyone else was always attacking each other's throats.

Still, that didn't seem to make him feel any better. Tori and Rick both looked at him before glancing at each other. Tori sighed and lifted herself onto the counter. She swung her legs back and forth, heels bouncing off of the wooden cabinets. "We're strong enough, Simon. We're not useless without them. Think about Chloe when we were younger. She was always so sure that she was the useless one."

"We've all got our strengths," Rick said calmly. "And honestly, Simon, I think you can do more than I can. Think about it. All I can do is heat a couple things and light a candle if I'm lucky." He said. "You're worth a lot more than I am." Simon had his attention turned away from all of us. Silently, Tori ran her hand through Rick's hair, giving him a slight smile when he gave her a sheepish grin.

_Simon. You're perfectly fine the way you are. Besides, all I am is a ghost. At least you're there._ I wrote. He didn't look at the notepad while Rick and Tori leaned over to scan it. They looked at each other as I picked it up and pushed it to Simon. He read it, looked up at where I was standing, and smiled.

Tori leaned forward, hands on her knees. "Yeah, stop being a pansy, Simon." She said. Rick nudged her in the side and she nudged him back. Simon cracked a grin and gave a chuckle as he tossed the notepad onto the counter. I quickly scribbled another note on it. _We should probably make a plan._

"Right." Simon said. He sighed and looked around, "Sorry about being all whiny." He said quietly. "It's been a long drive."

"Tell me about it. How's Podunk, Georgia?" Tori asked as Simon took one of the kitchen chairs and turned it to face her and Rick.

"It doesn't take me twenty minutes to park," Simon offered. Rick laughed loudly and Simon gave a huge, blazing smile. Even Tori gave a sly grin as they all looked at each other. Simon glanced over at me, and said, "Sorry, Liz, but I've got a favor for you. I rolled the pen on the pad to tell him that I was listening. I really missed having Chloe around to relay messages. Hopefully she wouldn't be gone for much longer. "Can you go by and check on the kids?"

"You left them in Georgia?" Tori asked.

"With Coe," Simon answered.

Tori's eyebrows drew together. "That werewolf boy that had asked Derek for help?"

"That's the one," Simon replied. "He's a good kid. He promised to watch over them." Simon replied. Tori looked like she wasn't so sure about it, but Simon added more before she could speak. "He's been living with me for a few years now, Tori. He's always willing to help, always offering to do things that he doesn't need to do. He's a good kid."

_And I think he likes Whitney_. I quickly wrote it in big blocked letters, holding up the pad so Tori could get a glimpse at it. Simon leaned forward to read it just as Tori did. Her eyes got a little bigger and she glanced over at Simon. "You left a boy that _likes_ her with her?" Tori said loudly."Derek will _kill_ you." She said.

_Even Chloe said not to tell him!_ I wrote it down so quickly that some of my letters were nearly unreadable, but Tori seemed to make it out just fine. She motioned towards the notepad. "See!" She exclaimed.

"What's so wrong with that? That just means he'll want to protect her, right?" Simon asked.

Tori rolled her eyes. "Please. Think about who you assigned him to." She said. "If this guy really cares about Whitney in an honest-to-God way, then he'll be putty in her hands."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"God, Simon. Sometimes I really do think you are the densest person I've ever met." She said. "Coe's all wolfy, just like Derek. First it'll be just a job to do. And then he'll feel some sort of protectiveness of her because of all that pack jazz, and then he'll _fall_ for her. You've done it again." She said. "And if Whitney has anything to say about it, she'll talk him into leaving. Because guys want to please their girls, and if this is what Whitney really wants, he'll do it." She said.

Simon shook his head. "They'll be fine." He replied. He turned back to look towards where I was, giving me a slight nod. "Can you please go check on them? Prove me right," He added.

I drew a checkmark on the notepad and focused on Simon's house.

# # #

At first, I thought I'd appeared in the wrong house. It was dark and way too silent. Even if they were all sleeping, there would've been the sound of them breathing. But it was still. I could feel that there was something wrong before my brain realized it. It was fear – it settled in my stomach, making me feel like I was going to puke. Ever since I'd become a ghost, I hadn't had the need to eat and, therefore, I didn't throw up. But the feeling was still there.

I searched for the light switch nervously, my fingers brushing over the wall. Finally I found it, flicking it on. Light flooded the living room and the fan overhead started to slowly spin. I glanced around the living room nervously. It didn't look like there had been a few teenagers in the house for two days straight with nothing to do. Everything was completely clean. I drifted to the kitchen, easily finding the switch, and was met with the same outlook. It was spotless. Pristine, even. I sort of had the feeling that it was cleaner now than it had been when Simon had left.

With a new sense of urgency, I darted for the bedrooms. I moved into the first one, flicking the switch without worrying about who was sleeping in there. But it didn't matter because there was no one there. Not a single soul – besides me, of course – was in there, and I had the feeling that I was the only one in the entire house. I headed for the next bedroom and pushed open the door. It was exactly the same.

With a frustrated sigh, I headed back to the first bedroom and opened up the closet door. I knew that it was the room Whitney and Zander had shared. It looked like there were a lot of things that had been left – clothes, mostly. But their duffel bags were missing, and the house had the feeling of emptiness. I would bet that they hadn't been there for a long time. I stood there awkwardly for a moment before finally shaking my head.

We should've known. Honestly, it was clear. Everyone was sure that Whitney was going to try to make an escape, and by the looks of it, she succeeded. Only, she managed to take her brother and the guy that was supposed to be protecting her with her.

# # #

Coe

Whitney stared back at me, her eyes wide. Even from this distance, I could see the hint of green in her eyes. She stood at the door to our rented room and stood there, seemingly frozen. Zander stood behind her. I would've expected him to make some sarcastic move since he and I obviously weren't on good terms. But he was just as confused as his sister was.

Zander was actually the one to move first. He glanced at Whitney before walking back towards me. He slung his duffel bag off his shoulder, nearly hitting me with it as he set it down on the walkway. I took another deep breath, trying to really tell what it was. It didn't hit me as the scent of a wolf, but I had the feeling that there might be something like that underlying the scent of flowers. Fake flowers, too. Like an air freshener. Zander, standing beside me, copied my movements. He leaned a little closer to the door, hand on the knob. He shook his head, glancing at his sister.

"What is it?" She asked nervously, moving a little closer. As she came to stand between the two of us, I could see something that I never would've imagined would cross her face. Fear.

Immediately, I wanted to grab her and pull her away from the door. It was what was scaring her. Whatever was behind that door, anyway. I would imagine that, in the long run, she'd want to smack me for thinking that she was weak. But in that instant, all I wanted to do was get her away from it.

"Like I said earlier, something's off." Zander replied. The motel didn't have any windows so we couldn't even try to look into the room. The only way in was through the door, and it wasn't like our key would fit the door. At least, I hoped it wouldn't, because that would be pointless. Whitney leaned forward a little more, her hand resting on my upper arm. Embarrassingly enough, I could feel goose bumps breaking out on my arm. What kind of hold did that girl have over me, for God's sake?

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"Positive," I said before Zander could. This time, he didn't give me a look like he wanted to skin me alive.

"So what do we do?" She asked, glancing towards our room's door. I knew that she just wanted to go get some sleep. She needed some, after driving for so long. Zander was certainly peeved, and I could feel a ghost of that uncomfortable feeling I'd felt as we had drawn closer to room twenty-nine.

I wanted to say that we could just ignore it. That we could go and get our sleep, and in the morning we could leave bright and early and get to her aunt's house in New York. I wanted to tell her to just get some rest because she needed it. But I knew that something like this couldn't go ignored. Something like this could change things for us.

I put my hand on the knob. "We look inside."

**Yay! Cliffhanger! Please don't hate me (:**

**What do you guys think? Could someone be dead in there? If there was, who was responsible for it? Does that even matter? Does Whitney give her ever-needed sleep?**

**Leave me reviews and answer those questions! Haha. (:**

**Like always, I want to thank you guys for being faithful readers and awesome reviews. You guys make me want to continue writing, even if it is only chapters for a fanfiction (I **_**am**_** determined to write my own book, though. Maybe someday, you guys will be reading my novels and have no clue!)**

**Anywho, you guys know what to do with that magnificent blue button below! Peace (:**


	16. Altercations

**elizi02 – Unfortunately, if it **_**is**_** a murder, you know it won't be just something random. There's always a point in these things. And, as annoying as it is, drama makes a story. More trouble is definitely ahead for our loveable trio. As for Derek's knowledge of Coe and Whitney, he's locked up in a cell and Liz has agreed with Chloe that it's not the best idea to tell him. He's very protective of his daughter, and they wouldn't want him to hurt Coe in any way….**

**Crying Silently – Lol! I have always found Simon has sort of naïve. I don't know what it is, but that's just the way he comes across. I think it's sort of like the way Zander is – he trusts way too easily, and just wishes things would be direct. The others are more into the sneaking, Mission Impossible type of stuff. And I love the cliffhanger! It keeps you guys on your toes. :P Don't worry, I've had a streak where I've been typing up the chapters long before I update them, which means you'll probably get them sooner. (:**

**Crixtine – Yes, inspiration has taken quite a hold of me. However, I think it might be due to the fact that school is over and I have a lot of free time on my hands. As for the story, I'm pleased that things are working out and making sense. It may come as a surprise, but writing Zander's dislike of Coe is slightly difficult because it's based on a blind, natural dislike. As for Tori, I imagined that with age she would become more mature. In Mrs. Armstrong's books, we see a change in her (by the third book, she is no longer smacking people in the head with bricks. Yippee!) and I figured that she would continue that change without losing her sense of sarcasm and her dark humor. I also imagined that Tori would be eager to have someone in her life (after all, she did seem to be looking for a love of some sort throughout the books) and when she finally did find that one person, I imagined that she wouldn't want him to see the darkest parts of her, so she glossed over her history, only giving him the basics and not the details. And if/when I get my own novel published, I'll be sure to let you know about it! (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_16: Altercations_

Liz

I appeared inside Tori's apartment, on top of the kitchen table. Tori, Simon, and Rick were all sitting around it, pouring over road maps, satellite pictures they'd probably printed out from the internet, and the rough sketch I'd drawn back at Simon's house. I imagined that they were trying to find a building that roughly matched the shape of the building I'd drawn. Unfortunately, the facility that Chloe and Derek were being held hostage in was pretty unassuming. It was gray and pretty square and plain so there wasn't any noticeable architecture about it.

I scrambled to get to the notepad and pen that were resting on the kitchen counter, waiting for me. My movements spread out the sheets all over the wooden table. I hoped they hadn't been set aside in any order because I'd just ruined it. If I'd been alive, I would've tripped myself and fallen flat on my face as I stepped off the table. Luckily, I'd managed to remember to make my body phase through the rest of the table and the corner of Simon's chair.

Simon's hands went up in the air as the papers settled, no longer in their perfect piles. All three of them turned to look at the notepad as I picked up the pen and quickly scribbled something down. In my haste, I realized that even I couldn't read what I'd written. In another breath, I scratched out my words and tried again, making sure to make my letters at least somewhat readable. When the note was written out, I thrust the pad towards the table. Simon grabbed the corner of it and turned it to face him.

I stood, hovering over his shoulder, as I waited for him to read it. I could see his eyes scanning across the page, taking it the scratched-out version of the note before reading the words I'd written. His eyes got a little bigger, and then he looked up at me. "They're gone?"

Tori leapt forward, taking the notepad out of Simon's hands. She looked over it a more quickly than he had. After a brief moment, she tossed it down onto the kitchen table with a thud. "I told you, Simon, that Whitney would get him to let her leave." Her voice was a little more accusing than it should've been. It wasn't Simon's fault, not really. He trusted Coe to be able to withstand Whitney's attempts at breaking free.

Simon opened his mouth to reply, but Rick cut him off. I sighed with relief. We didn't need to be getting into any fights this close to the goal. If anything, we needed to move and stop waiting around. Time was of the essence, especially now with the crazy doctor somewhere in Utah. "That's in the past, Tori." He said calmly. "I think what we need to worry about now is the kids. They're obviously heading for here. We need to decide what we're going to do when they get here."

"Maybe we shouldn't be here," Tori offered. "If we leave now, they won't be able to find the building."

"_We_ don't even know where the building is." Simon said.

_I do_. I wrote out. _If you follow me, it shouldn't take too long_. I chewed on my lip nervously as I held up the notepad. I knew that I could scout out the area and find streets that were close. After that, it would only take a map to find exactly where the building was.

"We can't just leave and then have them sit here. Apparently, the three of them know almost as much as we do." Rick replied. "If they are willing to leave the safety of Georgia to come here, who's to say that they won't risk everything by running around Buffalo trying to find the building? If they do that, I'm almost certain that they'll be caught by the Edison Group." He shook his head, standing up and heading towards the fridge. He pulled it open and leaned against the door, his eyes searching the racks. "If you ask me, it will be safer for them if we just stay here and wait for them." He glanced up at all of us, staring at him. "I think it's time that you guys think about letting them join the party. They've obviously got some skills or else they wouldn't be here."

"They're just kids," Simon replied, shaking his head.

"We were just kids," Tori reminded him gently.

"And we were _lucky_. You don't seem to remember, Tori, but some of us didn't make it out alive." He motioned towards the notepad that I'd been writing on. His eyes searched the area around it, as if he were looking for me. He didn't know it, but our eyes connected several times. "Sorry, Liz." He said quietly.

Tori looked flustered and a little angry. "We were stupid when we were younger, Simon. And the majority of us survived. The three of them have training. Their chances are already better than ours were. And I wouldn't hesitate to say that their chances might even be betters than ours _now_."

"What made you change your mind so quickly?" Simon shot. "I never remembered you to be a follower." He said, his voice rising slightly.

Rick slammed the refrigerator door shut. "Now hold on, Simon –" He started.

Without thinking about it, I jumped forward as if I was going to physically stop the argument. It didn't take me long to realize that my stopping them wasn't impossible unless I started throwing things. I didn't have time to dash into another room to grab an armful of pillows and I wasn't about to start throwing around Tori's kitchen knives. Quickly, I reached towards the table, grabbing the edge of it and tipping it forward. It dumped all of the papers onto the floor and made a satisfyingly loud noise as it hit the ground. I was sure that Tori's neighbors would be annoyed, but they could be ignored. "Stop it!" I yelled out, even though they couldn't hear me.

It worked, though. They all stopped glaring at each other and turned to look at the fallen table. "Way to go," Tori said. "You guys made Liz mad." I picked up the notepad from the ground and searched for the pen, pushing aside papers and wedging my fingers under the edge of the table. I finally located it, yanking off the top and throwing it onto the nearby counter. _You guys aren't helping. Stop arguing and figure something out. And for the record, I say give them a chance. They're capable._

"Why is everyone against me?" Simon asked the empty air.

"Nobody's against _you_ personally." Tori replied, wrinkling her nose a little bit. "I've just given up in keeping them out of the light. You, Derek, and Chloe don't seem to trust them at all. It's like you think that they can't handle themselves. Look at what they've done in the past few days. They're more than capable." Tori said. "The only reason I've changed my mind now is that I've realized nothing will stop them – not even a full-blooded werewolf." She shrugged.

"You do realize that Chloe and Derek will _kill_ us if they found out that we just let their kids join in on their rescue."

"Did you get instructions otherwise?" Rick asked. "Did Derek or Chloe _specifically_ say not to let Whitney and Zander come with you?"

Simon sighed. "No, they didn't tell me specifically. But it was understood." He said indignantly. "If they get into trouble, it's my head Derek will chop off."

"Maybe Chloe will be able to talk some sense into him," Tori said, rolling her eyes. "But Liz is right. They're able to handle themselves. They've proven that much."

Simon sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, and then shook his head again and glanced up at his half-sister and brother-in-law. "What do we do now?"

Rick leaned against the counter, gripping onto the edge of it. I thought I saw a bit of steam coming from his fingertips, but it could have just been my imagination. "We wait."

# # #

Derek

I knew they had left. I'd heard Watson order for them to go. They wouldn't hang around if they really wanted Whitney and Zander. Now, time was of the essence. All I could hope was that Simon and the others managed to get here and break us out while some of the employees were in Utah. It was far enough away that it would take them a while to jet back if there was an alarm sounded. Hopefully we could make it out alive and get away.

I hated to think about what would happen after all of this was over. When Chloe and I had gotten married, we'd still sort of been on the run, jumping from safe house to safe house. My dad, Simon, and Tori were always with us. At the time, I'd been nearing twenty-one, and Chloe was just twenty. But by that time, we'd all been together for five years, and it was starting to wear on all of us. It seemed that the closer we were – always getting into each other's business – was starting to cause more fights than it was worth. Besides that, it was getting harder and harder to find places that wouldn't look at a ramshackle group like we'd gone insane. We'd been all over the country, and places that we hadn't been through were starting to become scarce.

And so we'd decided to split up. We'd managed to make a plan where we'd all be relatively close to each other. We all decided to stay close to the east coast, since Tori insisted that she was going back to New York. She'd argued that it was the only state that hadn't been a bore, and that she wasn't even planning to go near Buffalo. Instead, she'd vowed to spend her days in New York City, working to be that high-classed woman that she'd always wanted to be. Simon went for Georgia – he'd discovered that food in the south was real "soul food," and had decided that he wanted to hang around there. Chloe and I had decided on Florida. It was close to Simon, on the east coast, and Chloe had found a strange attachment to the ocean the first time we'd stopped in a beach town. She had said that it was relaxing and warm, and it was the perfect place to pretend like the real world didn't exist. I'd agreed with her. And we'd been there ever since.

We'd picked a relatively large town to live in, so that it wasn't all that strange that we were moving in, and we'd managed to buy a house. Finding jobs had become hard – neither of us had college degrees, much less high school diplomas. Together, we studied for our GED tests, and after I passed, I started taking college classes online until I ended up with a bachelor's degree in computer science. I'd gotten a job at a computer company, and we'd gone from there. We'd paid off our house and we'd had two kids there. Our entire lives – the parts that we really wanted to remember, anyway – were built in Florida.

And if we ever got out of here, we'd have to leave it all behind.

I'd have to find a new job, we'd have to sell our house, and Whitney and Zander would have to go to a new school. If this took much longer, they might even have to repeat this last year of school. If that happened, the two of them would be absolutely furious – Whitney especially. And honestly, I hated to be the one that caused something this dramatic to their lives. I knew how hard it was to constantly change schools. My dad, Simon, and I had always been on the move. But Whitney and Zander were different than me. I'd always kept to myself and stayed quiet, avoiding trouble and attention. And by the time that I was their age, I'd gotten used to it. Whitney and Zander had been in one town their entire lives. They'd grown up with their classmates. And they had friends, friends that they wouldn't want to have to say goodbye to. Because when we got out of there, they wouldn't be allowed to ever contact them again.

It was sort of the way Simon had been when we were younger. He was always making friends wherever he went, going out for the sports teams even though he knew that he wouldn't be there that long. He'd tried for a girlfriend in every single town that we'd stopped in. He'd easily slipped in through the cracks of the cliques. And every single time we'd left, I'd see the way he would stare dejectedly out of his window. Back then, I had always wanted to tell him to get over it because he _knew_ that it was coming. He knew that we wouldn't be staying there forever. Yet he always managed to get his hopes on and crush them later on.

I stood up to pace. Planning had always been my forte. I liked to have things plain as day, easy to read, easy to understand. I liked having a puzzle to figure it out, but once everything was in place I liked it to stay that way. I wasn't sure where we would move to after all of this. I wasn't sure if Simon and Tori planned on moving after this, either. If my kids were being followed, they'd led the bad guy straight to Simon's house, and Simon had led them to Tori's apartment. None of us were safe.

As I pondered over the future, I could've sworn that I heard a noise, like a door opening. For a second, I was sure that it had been Chloe. Maybe she had managed to get the door open. But then I realized that it was ridiculous. There was no way on earth that Chloe could have managed that. Those doors were heavy, made of steel. Even I couldn't put a dent in them. And I'd seen the front of the door when Watson had been in my room – there was a passcode to it, a number that had to be punched in. So if it wasn't Chloe, who else could it be? I wasn't sure if there were any other prisoners here.

I moved to the door, pressing my ear against the cold metal. I closed my eyes and focused, trying as hard as I could to pick up on the noises. It had to be Chloe's room. That was the only one that I could imagine. The times that my door had been opened, I'd seen a blank wall across the hallway. It was easy to imagine that we were the only ones there, especially with the attention we'd been given. But if Chloe couldn't open her own door, who could it be? Watson had supposedly left, and it was clear that he was the boss here.

_Liz_. The thought flashed across my mind. Were they already in action? Could Simon, Tori, and Liz already be here to rescue us from this place? I pressed against the door, trying to wedge my fingers in between it and the frame. It was pointless, but I tried anyway. I didn't survive this many years without a sense of determination. I continued to pull at it, my fingernails scraping against the edge in a way that was almost painful.

Right as I was about to go for the bottom of the door, I heard the sound of voices. I froze for a second before pressing my ear to the door. I couldn't make out the words, but I could make out the tones. The voices didn't belong to anyone I knew. The hope that had grown in my chest, if only for a short moment, evaporated into the air around me.

It sounded like the same condescending tone as Watson used. And then I heard it, the sound that made my entire body give an involuntary shiver. It was Chloe's voice. I had no idea what she was saying, but I could recognize it. I leaned against the door, taking in the sound of her voice. I hadn't realized how much I really missed just hearing her say something.

I heard footsteps going down the hallway, getting closer to me. Right when they would be just in front of my door, I heard the soft sound of fingers on the other side of the steel door. I splayed my hand on my own side of the door, knowing that it was Chloe that was there. In only a second, she was walking away from me.

I dropped my head and sat back on my heels. Where were they taking her? If they moved her, it would foil our entire plan. But what bothered me the most was knowing that she wasn't on the other side of the wall anymore. I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that we could get out of here alive. And soon.

# # #

Chloe

They were taking me to clean up. I'd nearly jumped at the chance. Liz had been right the last time she'd came by to see me – I really did need a shower. I didn't trust the reasoning of my captors, but I wasn't about to turn down the gift of a hot, soapy shower.

The hallway was lined with doors. There were none on one side and so many that I couldn't count on the other. The hallway was dank and dark, just like my cell; but at least out here there wasn't a single bare bulb, but _many_ bare bulbs. I had the feeling that Watson had gone for a dungeon-y type of feel to make us feel like we were helpless and hopeless. It was starting to work.

There were two men and one woman that was leading me away from my cell. As I passed the first door to my left, I ran my fingers over the door. Liz had said that Derek was in this room. I couldn't push open the door and run to him, but I could let him know that I was present. I was _there_, and I knew he was there, too.

We passed by his door too quickly. I felt a pang in my chest as the two men led me down the hall – one in front of me and one behind me. It reminded me of all the times that Derek and Simon had done the same thing, almost, protecting me from the outside world. Except in this case, these men didn't want to protect me. It was the opposite.

The woman stood at my side, her gaze straight ahead. I tried to turn around to get a glimpse of the guy behind me, and her hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm. She yanked me forward with an inhuman strength, and when we got to the end of the hallway, she produced a dark blue bandana. She turned to me, looking me in the eye for the first time, and promptly covered half of my face with the bandana. She tied it at the back of my head and then took hold of my arm, leading me into the next portion of the building.

I could tell that this place was different. It was lighter than the dungeon hallway, and it wasn't completely made of stone and dirt. There was actual tile underneath my feet. Besides that, there were people in this part of the building. I could hear them talking quietly. It sounded like they were talking about computer things. I could imagine a bunch of people staring down at computer screens, doing whatever it was they did, while being completely unaffected by the prisoner they were parading through.

After another ten minutes, I was pushed into another room. It smelled sort of like mildew, like a public pool bathroom. The blindfold was removed, and I blinked. It was incredibly bright in the bathroom, which really did look like a public pool bathroom, and the smell of mildew and cleaners wasn't helping. The two men looked at me and then to the woman, and then they left the bathroom. I heard the sound of chains on the door handle. They were literally chaining me in there with her.

"What's going on?" I asked.

The woman looked over at me. When our eyes connected, for a brief moment, her eyes softened. I bit down on my lip and glanced away. Alone, the woman wasn't as strong as she made herself look in front of the men. She actually seemed like she had some sort of emotion to her, besides blind hatred and disgust.

I didn't expect her to speak to me. When she opened her mouth, I was sure my face looked like I'd seen a ghost – which, in my position, wasn't so unnatural – as I waited for her. "You're to meet the doctors." She said. "And we can't have you looking like prison trash."

I swallowed. "Meet the doctors? I already met Dr. Watson." I said, digging for information.

"The other doctors," She replied, which didn't really clear up anything. "Things have been off since Davidoff's death. We've gone through several chief doctors, and all of them turned out to be worthless and clueless. Dr. Watson hopes to secure the position with the proof that he's captured those that evaded Davidoff." She bit down her lip, her eyes telling me that she thought she'd said too much. "Now get in the shower. We have clothes for you." She opened up a tall cabinet and dug through it, pulling out some scrub-like pants and shirt. "You've got five minutes."

# # #

Whitney

"You're insane." I said. "I don't want to see what's in there. We should just ignore it." I told him, trying to get him to leave the door. I just wanted a good night's sleep, and we'd already forked over the fifty dollars for the room.

"What if they're not dead, Whitney? What if they need help?" Coe asked, his voice low, hand still on the doorknob. I paused. I would feel horrible if I found out that I could've helped someone and didn't. I was instantly brought back to the van that I made sure drove over the cliff. I could've helped them, I'm sure. Instead, I just pushed the incident to the back of my mind, where it would roil until I was about to snap and all the guilt could slip free.

I opened my mouth to say something, I'm not sure what, when Zander suddenly was in front of me. He actually put his hands on Coe's shoulder, giving him a hard shove. I reached out to grab my brother, but he stepped out of my range, snarling at Coe. "She said she didn't want to look in there." His voice was guttural, growling, sharp and dangerous.

Coe regained his footing, turning to glare at Zander. Something dark flashed in his eyes, only for a second, and I realized that we were in trouble. My brother and my father had never really fought, but when they got too excited while sparring, the wolf would surface. For my dad, it was always strong, and I could tell by the sudden green in his eyes that he wasn't just human anymore. Zander had always had a much lower reaction, one that I was seeing right in front of me. But Coe was in between my dad and my brother. His eyes suddenly shone a much brighter blue as his eyebrows drew together.

"I just said that we _should_ look in there." He said. I could hear him trying to fight for control of his voice. Unlike Zander, he wasn't just releasing the wolf.

"Just back off," Zander growled out. "Leave her _alone_. I don't care about your chivalry. _I'm_ her pack." Everything seemed to stop while they looked at each other. I could feel the challenge like a charge in the air. Zander wanted to beat the crap out of Coe, and Coe wasn't going to back down because if he did, Zander's wolf would count it as a win. He would think, all of a sudden, that he was the one in charge. Besides that, Coe's wolf probably didn't want to give in. After a few seconds, Zander lunged.

The two of them tumbled to the walkway, snarls and growls ripping out of both of their throats. I stood there, frozen, leaning against the motel wall. I wasn't the type of girl to just sit back and watch a fight. I was the type that jumped right into the middle of it, already throwing punches. I was paralyzed with horror. And then I realized something awful: I wasn't scared for Zander; I was scared that he was going to hurt Coe.

The moment the thought crossed my mind, my muscles seemed to unlock. I stared at the fight – punches, words, and a healthy dose of kicks while the boys stood up and struggled with each other, getting dangerously close to the banister – looking for an entrance into the fray. It was stupid, honestly. Those two boys were werewolves, one full-blooded and the other a half breed. There were wild, hungry, strong creatures inside of them. I didn't have a wolf like they did, I couldn't protect myself the way they could.

But that still didn't stop me. The moment I saw a break – Zander had just broken away from Coe's headlock and was about to lunge forward – I stepped in between them, my back pressed against Coe's chest. I put a hand out to stop Zander, feeling Coe's fingers wrap around my upper arm, preparing to pull me from between them.

"_Stop it!_" I half-yelled, still conscious of the fact that it was in the middle of the night. Just like that, everyone froze. Coe's fingers dug into my arm, not painfully, but firmly. Zander's eyes widened from their narrowed glare, and then he shot me the same glare, like everything was my fault. I found myself starting to take a step back, but I was already pressed close to Coe. I wasn't sure that I could get much closer.

I opened my mouth to say something, to release the pressure growing in my chest, when I realized that I didn't have anything to say. I was on the verge of an emotional freak-out. The capped bottle in the back of my mind was about to shatter. I could feel tears start to sting my eyes (tears of frustration, not of sadness) as I took a step forward, ripping free of Coe's grasp. I wanted to pound into someone, and the person that had started all of us this was Zander.

I shoved him, both hands on either side of his chest. He took a step back, the glare wiping off his face. Suddenly, he wasn't willing to fight anymore. It was because it was _me_. But when it was our ally, he had no problem trying to throw him over the motel banister to the parking lot below. I pushed him again, and he reached out both of his hands to stop me. "_God_, Zander!" I exclaimed loudly. "Who do you think you _are_?" I demanded, my voice strangled. "I don't _need_ you thinking you're in charge of me!"

"Whitney, just –" He began. "No!" I cried, cutting him off. I pushed him against the wall, hand going to the collar of his shirt. Before I could do anything to teach Zander how much I didn't need him trying to protect me, someone's arms were around me, holding my elbows to my sides. I squirmed, trying to get away from him.

"Whitney," Coe's voice was calm and quiet in my ear. "Please, just take a deep breath."

As if on cue, my body went limp. Coe's arms were still like steel brackets around me, but they weren't so tight anymore. He was waiting to see if I was going to do something. Zander took a deep breath, puffing his hair out of his face. "Let me go," I whispered menacingly. When they didn't move an inch, I hissed out, "_Let. Me. Go_."

Coe's arms unlocked from around me. I kept my eyes downturned. In a moment of pure anger, I'd lashed out at my brother, the one person that I knew I could always trust. The three of us stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then I started towards the motel room door. Not ours, but the one that had something mysterious behind it. As I passed by Zander, I paused and whispered, "I'm sorry." It was a big admission for me to apologize, and Zander knew it. He nodded, and I put my hand on the knob, trying to turn it.

It was locked. I took a step back. "We've got to get in there." I said quietly.

"But –" Zander began. I held out a hand to cut him off. I motioned for Coe to come forward. He did, grabbing a hold of the knob.

"It's something we've got to do, Zee," I whispered to him. His mouth was in a grim line, and he gave a short nod. He took a step back as Coe's arm flexed and the lock gave a click. I stood there, eyebrows shot into my hairline. He'd just broken the lock by twisting it. If that wasn't strength, I didn't know what was.

Coe glanced at me. For the first time since their fight, I let my eyes meet his. He didn't look like he'd just gotten out of a fight. Neither of them did. Coe's blue-green eyes seemed to feel something for me. They were soft, like he was trying to convey that everything was _alright_. He'd had to see me lose it on my own brother, even if it was for just a second, and something that I'd done before. I turned away just in time to feel Zander's hand on my wrist. He gave me a quick squeeze, telling me that it was okay.

Coe took a deep breath, and then he leaned against the motel room door. It started to swing open, and I coughed against the smell.

**Another cliffhanger! I knew you guys wanted to know what was in that motel room, and was going to try to get to that. But the chapter just kept getting longer, and I know there are a majority of people that don't like long chapters. This one happens to be fairly long, so I hope it's enjoyable, and look forward to finding out what's in the motel room in this next chapter.**

**Like always, I want to remind all of you how thankful I am that you read and review this story. It really helps me continue to write/change some of my writing.**

**And, as always, I ask that you leave me a review (whether you're a member or not) and please don't hesitate to spread the word of this story. Thanks! Peace. (:**


	17. Clean Up

**Red Werewolf - It's the art of suspense, dear reader. :P**

**elizi02 – I'm getting there! It'll be a few more chapters. What's a story without drama? (:**

**Crixtine – Yes, I wanted to paint Rick has someone that is sort of ditzy, but he deeply cares about Tori. Let the entire world know that Tori is the leader in the relationship. As for the kids, they'll get there… eventually… maybe. (: And you're so right about the Coe/Zander disagreements. As for Chloe, you'll have to wait and see. (:**

****NOTE: This chapter is going to be a little more TEEN than the rest of the chapters, as far as I know. Definitely blood and gore. Be prepared.****

****ANOTHER NOTE: Mrs. Armstrong wrote a short story starring Derek and some of his family members. It's posted on her blog. There are some possible spoilers in here, so if you'd like to read it I suggest you go find it now.****

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_17: Clean Up_

Whitney

The smell was awful. So bad that it made me want to stop right there and puke up my fast food, dollar menu dinner. Zander turned his nose into the collar of his jacket, shifting away from the open doorway. Coe coughed, bringing a hand up as if that was going to block out the smell.

The lights were off, and with just the moonlight to see, I wasn't able to see much. But there was no doubting it now. There was definitely something dead in there. The thought made my stomach tie itself in knots. Coe cleared his throat and carefully reached into the room. His hand patted the wall, searching for the light switch just inside the door.

I found myself leaning closer to him than I usually would, trying to see around him. I peered over his arm, scrunching up my nose. I knew the moment Coe found the light switch. His arm tensed up and I froze, anxiety and curiosity building inside me.

All three of us stood there for a second and then Coe finally flipped the switch. I nearly threw up the moment I saw it. The room was a mess, the sheets from the cot pulled onto the floor, a single lamp broken, and the small nearby table was flipped over. But that wasn't the worst part.

Blood was smeared across the laminate wood floors. Most of it was dry, but there was a puddle whose center still looked somewhat damp. It was thick, and I was sure that if something touched it, it would be like a disgusting gel. I was pretty sure that there was a tooth that looked more like a curved fang near a line of blood. But beyond that was the real horror: a body, twisted and broken.

I didn't know why I didn't sense it before. It wouldn't have been surprising if Zander hadn't noticed it. His wolf was more in charge of him than the necromancer. But I _should've_ sensed it. And now that I was looking at it, I felt all clammy and shaky. I really didn't want to see what happened if I accidentally brought it back. And I didn't see a ghost, so that was a plus.

Coe stepped in first, slowly, peering around the room. The body and the blood seemed to not bother him as much as it did me. He peered into the grimy motel bathroom, and then returned to the door. He motioned that it was safe, clear from whoever had done this. Zander went to hold me back, as if he didn't like the idea of me being in there. I didn't like it, either, but it was starting to look like it was necessary. I stepped inside, my stomach turning over as I walked over to Coe. He looked like he was trying not to hold out a hand to me. I couldn't tell whether or not I would take it if he did.

Coe didn't hold out his hand to me. Instead, he turned his back and started over towards the body. I could hear Zander step into the room behind me. I deftly stepped over the blood stains on the floor and to Coe. He bent down close to the body and very slowly put two fingers to the mangled neck of the body.

"He's gone," I said quietly. I didn't need to check his pulse to know. It was obvious by the way his neck was bent and covered in blood. I put a hand over my mouth and nose, trying not to breathe in the scent of death. Coe winced when I spoke, drawing his hand away.

He paused for a moment, and then looked up at me. "Look away," He warned, his voice low. He turned back to the body. I debated actually following his orders but decided against it. I was strong enough to see whatever it was he was going to do. Very carefully, still crouched on his toes, Coe reached forward and put a hand on either side of the head. With a disgruntled sigh, he started to turn it to face the right way. I could even see that he'd closed his eyes to do so.

The moment the neck started to realign, I turned around, nearly running directly into Zander. I shielded my eyes with my hands. That was something that I didn't need to see _ever_. Zander's eyes met mine, and we stared at each other with eyes so wide I was sure that we looked like we had dinner plates installed on our faces. It was silent for a moment, and then I heard Coe sigh heavily.

It wasn't just a sigh. It was something full of anguish, and there was even a sense of heartbreak to it. I wanted to turn to him and see what had done that to him in a matter of seconds. I broke my gaze with my brother and slowly turned around. Coe had managed to turn the broken neck and the body, and now he was standing up, facing the motel wall, looking away from the body.

Cautiously, I stepped closer to him. I put a hand on his arm, and he didn't even look up at me. He just stared at the wall, completely dejected. I turned my head to look at my brother. Zander's attention was on the motel door. He headed over to it, stepping over the blood stains just as I had. When he reached the door, I figured that he was planning to stand guard and make sure that nothing else was happening outside. I didn't know how long I had, but I knew that it had been a big step for Zander to leave me alone with Coe.

I moved my hand from his arm to his other side, effectively wrapping him in a hug. I didn't know what it was, but something about that body bothered Coe. I had never seen a werewolf with that angst-ridden look in his eyes before. He was completely tense. I could feel the corded muscles in his arm and back as I stood there with my arms awkwardly wrapped around him. Even if it was a strange moment, one that I never thought would have happened, it felt… _right_. I felt protected. And I felt like I was protecting him. After a second, Coe seemed to relax, his breath blowing across my hair.

"I knew him." Coe whispered the words. They were so quiet, so broken. I looked up into his eyes. I had always imagined that werewolves never cried, but I was pretty sure that there were tears shining in his eyes. They weren't falling down his cheeks, but they were bubbling up, and he was doing his best to keep them at bay. I pulled back to get a better look at him. "He was my best friend."

My stomach seemed to tie itself in knots over that. I couldn't imagine the emotion I would feel if I glanced over at saw my best friend, Jaime, the girl that I hadn't talked to in _forever_, there. I had the feeling that Coe's connection with his best friend had been pretty lax lately. I glanced around him to look at the body. Originally, I thought it was an older man, closer to my father's age. But with his head and body turned to face the same way, I could see that he was just a few years older than me. I would peg him for twenty at the most. He was huge, as big as a house. His appearances didn't hold a candle to Coe's, but he wasn't hideous. I bit down on my lip and grabbed a hold of Coe's arm.

"I know this will seem crass, but we've got to get out of here. If whatever did that to him is still out there, we're screwed."

"They're not out there." Coe said.

I glanced away from his dead best friend and into his eyes. Their brilliant blue seemed to glow. It wasn't the hint of a Change – I was sure that I would recognize that – but it was _something_. Determination. That's what it was. "How do you know?" I asked.

Coe shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping out of him. "It's the Pack, Whitney." He said sharply. "The freaking _Pack_."

I froze. I had heard stories about the Pack. My father had told me about them. At some point when he was younger, he was kidnapped by his family. They wanted to prove that he should stay with them instead of with my mom. They hadn't hurt my dad. He'd managed to escape with the help of my mom. But that was when they were being nice. There were stories of them mauling a traitor so badly that remains were nearly impossible to identify. I'd heard of wolves that were cut up with chainsaws, wolves that had been hung from a tree by their foot and beaten like a piñata and so much more. If Coe was right, if the Pack had done something to this guy, then they hadn't gotten to creative with it this time. For that, I was thankful.

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I'll ever be." Coe replied. He glanced over the body, and then his eyes returned to me. "His name was Brandon. We grew up together. When all that stuff happened with my dad, Brandon stood at my side. He stayed low and nobody really knew about his alignment with me. When I ran away, he gave me cover. The only reason he'd be leaving the Pack is to come find me." I recognized where all of this was going.

"It's not your fault," I whispered to him. "It was… well, the Pack is insane. A bunch of idiots that think they can run the world." I said.

Coe shook his head. "I know we've got to get out of here, but… he needs a funeral." He said. He ran a hand through his hair. "We can't get the police involved in this. They'll want to know about us and then the investigation would just cause trouble for supernaturals everywhere. We'll have to do it all ourselves."

I stood there for a moment. I wanted to get out of here first thing in the morning – at least, now, in a couple of hours. I wanted to say that he was dead and we couldn't do anything for him. My parents were alive. My parents were waiting for me. But when I looked up in his eyes, I could see the pleading in them. He _needed_ to do this. If it had been, God forbid, one of my parents or someone else I knew, I wouldn't even be this poised about it. I would be broken down over them. I could see him holding all of his emotions back.

I gave a short nod. "Okay."

"And then we'll get going. Straight to New York, I promise." Coe said. I went to nod again, but before I could his arms went around me. He wasn't restraining me this time. He was hugging me. I closed my eyes and let my head rest on his chest.

# # #

Zander

I wasn't stupid. It did smell like werewolf, but it was muted. The scent combined with the fang-like tooth on the floor had me convinced that the body in there was a werewolf. And I was sure that Coe hadn't missed the same observation. He was the one who had smelt it in the first place.

I glanced over the railing. It was obvious that he hadn't done it to himself. Someone had done that to him. Coe had said that the room was clean, and honestly, I couldn't smell anything around the scent of the werewolf's body and his blood. I doubted that if his killer stood right in front of me, I could recognize the smell. Which was why I was out here – I wanted to make sure that the killer was actually gone and not lingering around, waiting for someone to discover his deed.

I didn't want to leave Coe in there with Whitney. But she was able to handle herself. I still couldn't believe that I'd started a fight with him. My dad always told me to be careful about fighting, to make sure that it was absolutely necessary. He never told me any details, but I got the feeling that he'd had some bad past with fighting when he wasn't in control of himself.

I'd lost control of what I wanted. For a moment, the wolf inside had overshadowed my logical thinking. That had bothered me the most. It was as if I wanted to prove that I could handle anything and everything. The hint of wanting to be an alpha, I guess. It wasn't something that I could just brush off, though. How had Coe managed to keep from fighting back for so long? I'd finally seen the wolf moving in his eyes, accepting my challenge. It was lucky that Whitney was there to stop us, that she was there to look me in the eyes and put me in my place. Sure, I felt like I'd just been kicked around and put down, but at least I hadn't gotten out of control.

I put my head down on my arm, resting it on the banister of the walkway. I didn't know who or what had done this, but I knew that I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Whitney needed to sleep, though. I would offer to drive her car, but there was no point. Besides, Whitney didn't trust me with her car. And we needed a break. Even though all I'd been doing was sitting in the passenger seat and falling asleep, I was exhausted from travel.

Just when I was about to go back into the room and check up on them, Whitney and Coe stepped out. Coe looked different. It seemed like he was masking something. I wanted to know what, but I couldn't say anything to him without making Whitney mad. Without taunting the wolf inside. And so I just followed behind them as Coe shut the door. He made sure that it closed all the way and didn't swing open. It wouldn't lock, since he'd broken it. Hopefully nobody would come by and try to see what was going on.

Whitney opened the door and shuffled inside, dropping her duffel bag onto one of the beds. There were only two. I felt my eyebrows draw together as Coe stepped in behind me. "Where's he going to sleep?" I asked, referring to the lack of a third bed.

"One of you can take the couch." She replied. "But I'm a girl, so I automatically get a bed. Besides, what did you guys do all day, sleep?" She was trying her best to sound snobby, but I could hear the exhaustion in her voice. Even in a state of extreme sleepiness, Whitney tried her best to hold on to her sarcasm. It was one thing that I really liked about her. Nothing was boring with Whit there.

"I'm not taking the couch." I said.

"Fine, share the second bed for all I care."

"That's _not_ happening." Coe piped up from behind me. He slung his backpack onto the couch. He wasn't even fighting me for the rights to the second bed. Apparently, he was more in control of his animalistic tendencies than I was. I wanted my territory, and I wanted the most comfortable territory. I wasn't about to hand it over to someone else. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from Coe.

And then I shook my head, because that was ridiculous.

I just tossed my duffel bag onto the other bed and unzipped it, digging around for my pajama pants to sleep in. I hadn't thought that Coe would be here with us. I was sort of worried that he would find my striped pjs embarrassing. Whitney had bought them for me at Christmas.

Before I could even pull them out, Coe headed for the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on, and I snorted. He hadn't even _called_ first shower. What if it was imperative that I had the first shower?

The moment the water turned on, Whitney catapulted herself from her bed to mine, jumping across the narrow strip of carpet. I jumped. I hadn't been expecting her to throw herself at my stuff. She scooted right next to me and leaned over to whisper in my ear. "We've got to stay some time tomorrow, too." She whispered feverishly.

"What? Why?" I asked, my voice low. I cleared my throat. Why were we whispering?

She glanced at the closed bathroom door and then back to me. "That wolf in there was Coe's best friend." She said quickly. "His name was Brandon. Coe asked if we could just have a quick funeral for him. Besides, we've got to clean up the motel room."

"You mean, we've got to cover a murder?"

"We can't get the human police all tied up in this. They won't find anything. And if they do, it'll just bring them trouble. Coe's convinced that the Pack killed Brandon."

"The _Pack_?" I hissed. "We are definitely _not_ hanging around where the Pack is. You heard dad. If they catch wind of us, we're screwed."

"Maybe not," She offered. I glanced into her eyes. Whitney had never appeared so dense before. Our dad had told us all about the Pack. How dangerous they could be, how controlling they were, how narrow-minded they were. They would look at us as abominations, and she _knew_ it. They'd tried to steal him away from mom and grandpa when he was younger. They said he didn't belong with them. If they found out that we were half necromancer….

I shook my head. "That's impossible, Whit. What if they come back? And they'll be interested in us. You know they will. This isn't just a game. You can't hang around and do whatever he wants. I get it, okay? It's sad. He was his best friend. But he's _gone_, Whit. We can't do anything to save him. We've got to get out of here before the Pack comes back for us." It sounded bad. It sounded like I was just some stuck-up, selfish brat. But it wasn't safe here.

"Let him have a funeral for Brandon," Whitney hissed back. "I'd have one for _you_."

I broke down. She was right. It was crass to think that we weren't going to let him have a funeral for his best friend. I shook my head and looked towards the doorway to the motel room. "Fine, Whitney. I get it. I do. But this isn't safe. And mom and dad are depending on us."

My sister bit down on her lip. She looked up at me, and I was sure that I saw the hint of tears in her eyes. "I know, Zee. I know."

# # #

Derek

The lock on the outside of my cell shook. Someone was undoing it. I had lost hope that Liz and the others had managed to find their way here. I knew it had been Chloe on the other side of my door, and I could tell that she wasn't pleased with whatever was happening to her.

The door swung open, and I stood up from the cot. Watson wasn't with the three men standing at my door. The one in the middle stepped inside and grabbed one of my arms, turning me around and tying my wrists together. A bandana came over my face. The guy tied it a little too tight, and I fought the urge to growl at him.

"Come on, werewolf." He said gruffly. I debated fighting him, but I decided against it. They'd made it clear that they would do anything to keep us under control, and that meant hurting Chloe and making me listen to it.

I was led into the hallway. I could tell where the three men were just by listening to them. They didn't seem to understand that _all_ of my senses were heightened. When a regular person closes their eyes, their other senses worked to make up for it. Mine were exactly the same way. I could hear a pin drop across the room we were now in, which I could tell was spacious. It was also full of people.

We marched across the large room and through several hallways. And then I was pushed into a room that smelled like mildew. I heard a heavy door close behind me. The blindfold was removed from my eyes. I wasn't really sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.

I was staring at a row of shower stalls. My hands were still bound behind my back, and there were the three men standing by the door. Each one of them had a gun, and one of them held up a knife. "Five minutes to take a shower. Here is your change of clothes. And don't even try getting out of here. We have orders to kill. Besides, if you get past us, there's a room full of armed people just outside." He said, cutting the ropes that bound my wrists.

I knew that there was no chance of escape. Not right now. I figured that there wasn't a _roomful_ of people beyond that door, but there were probably some. And I had no idea where they had taken Chloe. If I didn't get her and get out quickly, then they would catch us and punish us more than they were already planning to. The odds weren't in my favor. I wanted to break out of here and find my wife. But I was smart enough to know when to wait. And now was a moment to wait.

I took the clothes they handed to me and took one of the shower stalls. I stood there for a moment before turning on the water. It was lukewarm, a little on the colder side, and it didn't look like it was getting any warmer. They didn't give me any soap, but at least I could wash the grime from my skin and hair. I had honestly missed having a shower every day. I used to take them twice a day when I was a teenager.

My five minutes were almost up. I shook out my hair and pulled on the clothes they had given me. It was a pair of sweat pants and a shirt, along with a pair of large brown sandals. At least everything was about the right size. I shook out my hair again just when the curtain was pulled back. One of the men had his gun leveled at me, and he beckoned me out of the shower stall. I went.

The bandana came out again, and before I could even blink it was tied around my head. Someone had thought to bring a second rope. Once my wrists were bound again, I heard the heavy door open, and I was led back out into the hallway.

We took a different route to a different room. I had the feeling that I was nowhere near my usual cell. The moment the door closed behind me, though, my heartbeat spiked. I recognized that smell. I practically _lived_ for that smell. Chloe.

The guards pushed me forward, farther into the room. I heard the heavy clanging sound of a door. "Come to the side," A gruff voice ordered. A did as I was told. Hands grabbed my tied-up wrists, and the knife cut through them. "Untie your blindfold and give it to me." He commanded. I did, reaching up to undo the knot. When the blindfold fell away, I caught sight of the one person I had fought so many battles for.

My Chloe.

# # #

Coe

I woke up with a jerk. The moment I did, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the couch. My neck and my back hurt. I'll be honest – I wanted the bed right next to Whitney's. Part of it was to get back at Zander and make him suffer through a night on the world's dirtiest, most uncomfortable couch. But part of me wanted to do it just to be closer to Whitney. Because I'd had a moment with her. I had the feeling that it was at one of the worst times, but it was _perfect_. She was warming up to me. And I was warming up to her.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to remember what I was dreaming about. I knew it was bad. A nightmare. Just as I went to sit up, I remembered. Brandon. In my dream, I had been in that motel room with him. The Pack had busted down the door, and then they preceded to tear apart my best friend while blaming me for everything. I could remember thinking that I already knew it was all my fault, that they didn't have to remind me.

Just when the Pack was coming to get me, Whitney broke in after them with Zander in tow. They paused in their advances on me, turning to rip her to shreds. I'd woken up just before they grabbed her.

Whitney was sleeping soundly in her bed. Last night, she'd been a little panicked about the cleanliness of the motel room. I didn't blame her. After we'd all gotten a shower and gotten into clean clothes, the motel felt even _dirtier_. I hadn't thought that was possible. But it was. She eventually climbed into bed, the most exhausted out of all of us, and she'd promptly gone to sleep.

I'd lain awake for a long time, staring up at the stained ceiling, trying to pretend that I was sleeping on a brand new couch that was still in the furniture store. I could hear Zander's breathing. Whitney's was calm and steady. She was in deep sleep. But Zander was awake, just like me.

Eventually, I'd gone to sleep, and now I was the only one awake. I pushed off the thin comforter from Whitney's bed and stood up, brushing off my shirt. I quickly changed clothes, pulling on a shirt and a clean pair of jeans, before reaching for my shoes. I needed to get to the motel room where Brandon was before someone came up there. I hurried out onto the walkway and to Brandon's motel room.

Last night, Whitney and I had wrapped Brandon up in the white sheet and comforter from the bed. It had been a grueling task. I hated to see my best friend like that, and Whitney wasn't too fond of dead bodies. I'd practically forgotten that she was half necromancer. Being around the empty shell of a person was probably getting on her nerves. Yet she helped without complaining, only making faces when she thought I wasn't looking.

The door was unlocked – I'd broken the knob. It would have to be replaced. I pushed the door gently and it swung open. Inside was just as much as a mess as it had been, besides Brandon. Blood covered the floor and was splattered on the walls. The bed was off kilter, and the sheets had been wrapped around a broken body.

I'd found the storage room and broken the lock last night, so I'd managed to get an entire gallon of cleaner and a good pile of rags. I couldn't leave this place looking like a murder scene. Any police that were called to the scene were going to be stumped or in danger. I'd rather not risk it at all.

I knelt on the ground to wipe up the biggest puddle of blood. I poured some of the cleaner onto it, my nose immediately burning from the scent of cleaner and metallic blood. I could practically taste the mixture on my tongue.

I got to work, scrubbing it up from the floorboards. There was bound to be a stain. I wasn't going to be able to get all of it out. I hid my nose in the collar of my shirt for a moment, taking a quick break. The smell was getting to my head and giving me a huge headache. I sat back. That was when I was aware of the sound of footsteps on the walkway.

Stupidly, I'd left the door open. I was hoping that it was going to clean out the smell. Besides, the parking lot was completely empty except for Whitney's car and the car that belonged to the chain-smoking employee. I hadn't imagined that anyone else would show up.

I looked over my shoulder and sighed with relief. It was just Whitney. It was kind of nice that she'd known to find me here. But then again, where else would I have gone?

"Need help?" She asked, stepping into the room. She looked refreshed, her black hair hanging in a braid at the side of her neck, her green eyes glowing. It was sort of ridiculous, but she'd even found time to put on some makeup.

"Sure," I said back, pushing the gallon of cleanser over a little bit. I motioned to the pile of rags, which, when used, would have to be burned and thrown away. It was gone to be hard to get rid of all the evidence, but it would have to be done.

Whitney didn't say anything else to me as she picked up a rag and poured some cleanser on the floor.

# # #

"He was a good guy," I said, looking down at the sheet-wrapped body of my best friend. Zander had managed to find a shovel behind the main building in a shed (I didn't even want to know why they had a shovel back there, really) and I'd gone to work digging a sizeable grave. Zander and Whitney had stayed in the room, cleaning up the rest of the blood. They'd set the bed right and made sure that the door was left open just a little bit to help with the heavy scent of Clorox.

Now, the three of us stood around the ramshackle grave. Whitney and Zander hadn't even known him, but they'd taken the time to pay their respects. I'd given a few words, the best eulogy that I could come up with at a moment's notice. Whitney nodded, and for a second, I thought I saw a tear on her cheek. Could she possibly be crying for a person she didn't even know?

I took the shovel and scooped the dirt on top of Brandon. While I did that, Whitney and Zander piled together the rags, poured a little cleanser on them, and lit a match from the half empty matchbook that was sitting on the table in our motel room. They made sure they were all burned while I smoothed out the dirt, trying my best to make it look natural.

I leaned back and looked down at my work. Hopefully, it would appear natural. Hopefully, nobody would look at it and imagine that there was a dead body down there. Whitney and Zander had successfully burned all of the rags we'd used. Zander stomped out the remaining pile, and they both looked at me.

"Thanks for letting me bury him. We've got to get our stuff and get out of here." I said. Zander nodded, looking a little more pleased than he had all day. I was sure that he'd wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. So had Whitney. So had I. But they'd understood my request to bury my best friend. He _had_ died for me, after all. The thought would not leave my mind.

We all turned towards the motel. It would just take a few minutes to grab our things and get out of here. On to New York.

Whitney had just put her foot on the bottom step when the wind changed. That very moment, Zander and I both froze, lifting our heads a little. There were people with us. They'd managed to stay downwind the whole time, but now their scent revealed them. I had just turned around to see who it was when the shadows fell over me.

They'd found us. They'd been waiting. They'd seen the whole thing. I immediately went into defensive mode. When hands reached out to grab me, I started punching and kicking. Fighting dirty was fighting for life, and I wasn't about to give up.

Someone's arm wrapped around my neck in a headlock, and I was stuck. It was the exact same move that I'd pulled on Zander last night. Had they been watching then, too? I struggled, trying to get out of it. But whoever was holding on to me was squeezing my windpipe. They were trying to knock me out.

Blackness nibbled at the edges of my vision. I looked up just in time to see that Zander had been hit over the head. Whitney had managed to hold her own. I wanted to think that they'd gone easy on her because she was a girl, but they probably hadn't. She was probably just that skilled, enough that she was able to fight off a few guys. But one of them lunged over their partner, taking her down. I heard her head snap against the stairs, and I knew that she was out.

I still struggled. I wasn't going to give up. They'd have to _make_ me give up. But they were trying, and they would win. They always won.

The Pack was relentless.

**The third cliffhanger in a row! (I think.) What do you guys think about that? Yes, now it looks like they have a detour to take on their way to New York. But, as I've said before, drama is a story, and without it, this would be boring. :3**

**And what do you guys think about the image for this story?**

**Let me know your thoughts on the chapter/the image. You guys know I love it! Be looking forward to the next chapter. Lots of drama there! Peace (:**


	18. The Pack

**elizi02 – The only series I've read by Mrs. Armstrong is Darkest Powers/Darkness Rising. The majority of the information from the Pack that I know about is from the fear of being caught (Derek in Darkest Powers) and the message that Crixtine sent me a while back. And of course, there will be more Whitney and Coe. Gotta love those two. (:**

**fireicegirl16 – Interesting take on things, but no. This time it's less about them and more about their current kids.**

**Crixtine – You're on the right track when it comes to Derek and Chloe. Yes, I did put my own spin on the Pack. Like I told elizi02, I haven't read any of the other series. I'm mostly going off of Derek's fear of being caught by them and the short story that relayed how they thought Derek belonged with them and not with other supernaturals. Besides, Raymond and Liam weren't exactly shining stars, you know? To shine a little light on the situation: In my mind, the Pack is going to protect their secretiveness from humans/protect the Pack. The reason Coe's father and brother were killed was because they were threatening the Pack – that's why Coe ran away. When it comes to Coe's friend, it's because they also perceived that he was threatening them by attempting to find a fugitive. I hope that makes sense. (: **

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_18: The Pack_

Chloe

They had brought me from the bathroom to a blank room. Inside were two steel-barred cages. They hadn't hesitated to toss me into the first cage, locking the door behind me. I went to the side and gripped the steel bars, trying to see if the woman would look at me. I had no idea what her name was, and she hadn't bothered to be kind to me, outside of telling me what was going on. Even then, though, she'd been vague. All she'd told me was that I was going to meet more doctors that had been fighting over who would take Davidoff's place. Somehow I was supposed to help decide who would be given the position. I doubted that my presence would do much. I was just a single mutant necromancer.

The woman wouldn't meet my gaze, and the men nearby just shot daggers at me. I found myself _wishing_ for something dead to come and attack them. I swallowed at that thought. Raising the dead wasn't like the glorified Hollywood version. It was creepy, scary. Dead creatures crawling to you, wanting to look at you in the eyes when they had none. I could still close my eyes and imagine bony fingers crawling up my legs. I shuttered and turned to look around the room.

It was blank, white, plain. The floors were gray concrete, the walls were painted white. There were no decorations. The doors were the only thing that had a touch of personality to them – carvings around the edges intertwined, like vines. I found myself wondering if it had something to do with protection or safety. I didn't know much about magic, but I knew that some things were considered to have magical properties. I assumed that it stretched the symbols and signs.

I looked away from the doors and to the raised platform that ran along that far wall. It was just a concrete slab. On it was a worn, burgundy rug. Five chairs sat in a straight line, all of them empty. The one in the center was the most ornate out of all of them.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the bars of the cage. Slowly, I sank down to the bottom of it. I never would have thought that it would cross my mind, but I decided that my dark cell was better than this place. At least there, I didn't have to worry about a bunch of psychotic doctors. I chewed on my lip and habitually braided my wet hair. When Whitney was younger, she'd always wanted to have her hair braided. I'd learned to braid like an expert just for her, and ever since then, I was prone to doing it whenever I was nervous. I guess it had something to do with the happy memories it brought me – Whitney had been a sarcastic angel when she was younger.

The door behind me opened. I tried to avoid looking up, hoping that if I seemed standoffish than they wouldn't bother to mess with me. But my attention was drawn when I heard the gruff, demanding voice. My eyes shot to the doorway, and my heart immediately started pounding in my chest. My husband was standing in the doorway, dressed in sweats and a cotton T-shirt, a bandana over his eyes. Three men stood around him, and they were holding _guns_. I scrambled to stand up, grabbing a hold of the bars to hold me. I saw Derek stiffen the moment his foot crossed the threshold of the room. He had to know that I was here.

In all honesty, I knew that this was bad. Nothing good could come from us meeting here, in a white, boring room with two steel cages that could not be broken. Even so, I was glad that he was there. I felt instantly better. When we were younger, Derek had once been so reliant on me. It may not have obvious to him, but there had been times when his wolf, which he had self-proclaimed a monster, had almost broken through that careful façade that he put on. It was empowering to know that I could help him hold on to whatever form of humanity he had always clung to.

Derek had the same hold over me. There was no one in the world that could calm me down with just one glance. To see him again was like finding the will to breathe all over again. I moved to the side of the cage that would be closest to his, gripping the bars. The guards walked him over to the other cage, opening the door. They shoved him inside. They'd tied his wrists and covered his eyes. They hadn't done that to me. It was obvious why – I was less of a threat than he was. All I could do was raise the dead and talk to ghosts, and I would guess that their building was relatively clear of the dead. Ghosts were only helpful when they were like Liz, able to control elements around them. And I couldn't hope that there was a demi-demon around here to help me out of it this time. I had made a deal with the last demi-demon I'd come across, Diriel. And even then, she hadn't managed to fulfill her side. The demon king came for her, and I hadn't seen her since.

I heard the guards barking something to Derek, but I couldn't force myself to understand what they were saying. All I knew was that Derek was in the cell next to me. The guard walked to the side and brought out a knife. My heart leapt in my throat, but before I could say anything, he cut the ropes from Derek's wrists and stepped back. I sighed with relief as he reached up to untie the blindfold from his eyes.

His eyes were feverish green, not the kind that said he was about to Change, but the kind that said he was fighting off some sort of emotion, trying to keep it from reaching the surface. He tossed the bandana out of the cage and ran to the side that was closest to me. "Chloe," He breathed. The sound of my name sent shivers down my spine. Derek and I hadn't been apart for more than a few hours at a time since we started dating when we were kids. I'd grown up with him and I'd lived with him for _years_. Derek and I had an unshakeable bond. We were strongest together. But when we were apart, it really took a toll on us.

"Hi, Derek," I breathed. It was barely a whisper, so quiet that nobody but him could hear it. He sighed, eyes closing momentarily. It was nice to see that I had the same hold over him as he did over me, even after all of these years.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Fine," I said, running a hand down the front of my navy blue scrubs. I got thin hospital nurse's clothes. Derek got warm sweats. I ran my hands up my arms, trying to get rid of the goose bumps that crawled up my arms. "Are you?"

"Now I am," He answered, his classic smirk gracing his lips for just a few seconds. His eyes searched my face, and he calmly asked, "Do you know what's going on?"

"We're meeting doctors." I whispered, doing my best to keep my voice low and free of meaningful inflection. The guards couldn't keep us from talking unless they gagged us. But this was a private conversation, only for his and my ears. "The woman said something about Watson wanting to be given Davidoff's place. He's planning to use us to secure the position." I said.

Derek's eyes shone, his mouth twisting in a grimace that I'd seen on his face more than I'd like. His fingers tightened on the bars of his cage, knuckles turning white. "I thought he went to Utah." He breathed the words, but they were loud enough to attract the attention of the nearby guards.

Liz had told me about Derek's crafty lying. He'd given her the run down, and she'd relayed it to me in quick bursts. I couldn't remember most of it, but I figured that I could play along. I didn't know where they would be sent. Jacob Rigsby. Utah. Secretive. Got it. I let my voice rise a little bit. "_That's_ where you sent them?" I said feverishly. My eyes searched Derek's, hoping that he would play along. Derek wasn't an actor. Neither was I, but at least I had taken classes.

Derek dropped his gaze. "Yes," He said calmly. "That's where I sent them." He was doing well. If I didn't know any better, I would say that he was telling the truth. Derek was a skillful liar. His lying tic wasn't as noticeable to other people as it was to me.

I reached out of my cell, stretching to reach him. He did the same, fingers stretching for mine. My shoulder was firmly against the bars, I couldn't reach any farther. Derek tried, wiggling his fingers as he did so, but I didn't think he would be able to reach anymore, either.

The door opened, and we both jumped. We'd been so focused on each other that we hadn't even been paying attention to our surroundings. It was a rookie mistake, one that we had both made. We both glanced at the door, and my heart practically stopped.

It wasn't Watson, but their presence was scary. I had the feeling that I had seen him before. I figured that it had to be in passing, or when we were on the run, or maybe one of the many citizens that had eyed us funny when we passed through their town. I had no idea why he seemed so familiar, but he did.

"Well, isn't that sweet?" He asked calmly. A low growl escaped from Derek, and he stepped closer. I recognized him, then. It had been one of the supernatural men that had helped us along the way, a friend of Kit's. I hadn't liked him at the time, and we hadn't stuck around for long, but he must have remembered our short one week stint in his little town in southern New York.

Derek recognized him, too. He spit the man's name from between his teeth. "Vance."

# # #

Whitney

My head was pounding. I reached up to touch the back of my head with a groan. I was sore, too, like I'd gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxing champion. I sat up slowly, aware of the fact that my mouth was dry. I thought my eyes were closed, but when I blinked and realized that I just couldn't _see_, I panicked. I remembered vaguely what happened – we'd been attacked by a group of overtly strong guys, and I'd been tackled. The back of my head had hit something. The ability of sight was in the back of the brain.

What if I was blind _forever_?

My heartbeat spiked as I blinked, aware of the fact that my eyes were watering. "Whitney?" A voice whispered in the darkness. I reached out, my fingers connecting with something cold and hard. Something metal. I ran my fingers over it. Was it a _pail_? Where the heck were we? "Whit?" The voice came again.

"Zee?" I whispered, certain that it was my brother.

"Where are you? I can't see a thing." He said, his voice a little tired. They'd had to have knocked him out, too. I sat up and ran my hands over my jeans, scrambling to my knees.

"So you can't see, either? Thank God." I breathed.

"I don't think that's a particularly good thing." The voice didn't belong to Zander, and it was a lot closer to me. I reached out instinctively. My hand met something broad and warm. His hand reached up to mine, fingers wrapping around mine and giving me a quick squeeze. It was definitely Coe.

"I thought I was blind there for a minute," I admitted, getting to my knees. I blinked again. Wherever we were, it was pitch black. Like a house at night, in the country, with all of the lights off. Pure, unbroken darkness. Honestly, it was scary. "Zander, where are you?"

"How should I know? I can't see!" He replied.

I snorted. "Somebody needs to get hit in the head again. Maybe that will turn off his sarcastic switch."

Zander coughed loudly, covering up a laugh. "Yeah, I'm the one that needs a sarcasm adjustment."

Coe laughed, the sound of it a comfort to my ears. He was sitting right next to me. Somehow we'd ended up right next to each other. I leaned against him, if only for the solid wall of warmth that he lent. At least, that's what I told myself. Honestly, I liked sitting right next to him. The realization made me want to smack myself against a wall.

Something touched my foot. I immediately reacted, jerking my knee up. Inadvertently, I hit Coe on the leg. "Ouch," He muttered, his hand brushing over my arm. "Sorry," Zander said. He was closer, now. Apparently we'd just been tossed haphazardly where we were. They hadn't even bothered to separate us. That had to be a mistake. At least, I was determined to make it one. We would figure our way out of this.

"Okay," I said as Zander moved to my other side. I pulled my hand away from Coe's, attempting to see even though I knew it was futile. There was no way I was going to be able to see in this darkness unless the sky opened up and dropped a sun right in front of us. "So we've got to get out of here."

"I second that," Zander piped up. I nudged him in the side with my elbow.

"Right," Coe agreed. "The only problem is… where are we?"

"No clue," I replied back. "How long have you been up?" I asked, directing my voice to Coe.

"About thirty minutes, I'd guess. We've been moving, so we're in a car. It's been a pretty straight road. And it's been quiet, so that rules out the highway. I think that it's some back road. In the country, maybe."

"Is there country in New York?" Zander asked.

I rolled my eyes. I had the feeling that Coe would be doing the same. "You were part of the Pack once. Do you remember anything?"

"I moved around a lot when I was younger." Coe answered. "I was always near the Pack, but I was never in the middle of it. My dad knew that his propositions could cause trouble, and he'd been determined to keep my family out of it. After I ran away, I tried to erase most of this from my mind." He said calmly. He was so centered. I wasn't sure how he managed to keep his cool. I was panicking on the inside, and the only reason I wasn't flipping out on him or my brother was because Zander needed me to be strong. It had always been like that, for me, at least. I didn't want to have Zander look at me like I was weak. I was the oldest. It was my job to make sure that he was protected at all times.

"So that's a no," Zander said, his voice nearly dripping with condensation. I elbowed him as hard as I could in the ribs, ignoring his woof of pain.

"It doesn't matter where we are right now," I said, leaning back against the cool metal wall. We were definitely in a car. I hadn't realized it before, but there was an easy motion as the tires dipped and rose with the pavement. "We're moving, anyway. The point is, we've got to find a way out of this."

"We can't make a plan unless we know the basics. It's safe to assume that it's the Pack." Zander said, his voice low in the darkness. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "But that's all that we know for sure. We can't go running on some half-baked plan. What if they take us somewhere with guards? Or what if they have an electrical fence with barbed wire across the top? We've got to see where we are and go from there."

"We don't have the time," I hissed.

My voice was drowned out by Coe's, though. "It's the Pack, not a penitentiary." He shifted next to me, his arm brushing mine as he moved. "Their houses are like yours. Their towns are normal. Basically all there is to it is that most of them tend to live in the country, away from humans. Part of their job is to protect their supernatural identity, after all." He said. "I would assume that we're a good while away from any town. The only guards will be werewolves, and even then, I would like to bet that we could get past them. The problem would be traversing the woods and making a getaway."

"You seem to have thought this through already," I said with a slight huff. I liked planning. I liked having a part of it. It was what made me calm down a little. Having a secure plan in place made my anxiety sort of wash away.

"I've been awake for thirty minutes, listening to you two sleep." He said. "And since I can't see, there's not much else to do but think."

"Right," I agreed, shifting a little bit. My head still hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it was the moment I woke up. I liked to think that it had just been that initial moment, but the truth was that I was doing my best to block it out. My dad had once told me that pain was just a message sent to the brain. He used to say that if I could ignore him when he told me to clean my room, I could ignore pain. I found myself smiling a little bit at that. "Well, what are we going to do then?" I asked.

I didn't get the chance to wait for an answer because the car came to an abrupt stop. All three of us slid with the momentum of it, Zander crashing into me as I was practically catapulted into Coe's lap. The pail that had been at next to me, between me and Zander, dug into my side. I groaned and tried to climb off of Coe's lap, glad that the dark didn't give him the chance to see the flush that was crawling up my neck and coloring my cheeks.

I heard the sound of car doors slamming as we all scrambled to right ourselves. "What do we do?" Zander hissed, his voice just barely above a whisper.

"Don't attack them." Coe warned. "Wait and see what they have to say."

"You better be right about this…." Zander threatened. We all listened as footsteps traveled around to the back of the car. I bit down on my lip as I heard the scrap of metal against the back of the car doors. I imagined that we were in some kind of van, the kind that was painted white and had no windows in the back. It brought back memories of the day when we'd discovered my parents missing. I was certain that it hadn't been the Pack chasing us then. But it was certainly them now.

The doors opened. Light seeped through the cracks and I immediately closed my eyes, tears wetting my lashes. My headache returned full force. I slowly opened my eyes, looking between my brother and Coe. Zander had shrunk from the sunlight just like I had. Coe, though, had moved to stand, crouched in front of me as if he was determined to protect the two of us.

"Looks like they're awake." The voice was gruff. It sort of sounded like it belonged to a smoker. I couldn't see their faces, just their silhouettes. I blinked again, squeezing my eyes shut and willing them to stop watering. I wiped my fingers under my lashes and shook my head, looking up at them again. The sun still hurt, but at least it wasn't burning holes into my brain. "And looky here, the prodigy son returns."

A low growl escaped from Coe. I could see him trembling with anger. For a guy that had warned us not to attack, he sure seemed hypocritical. I slowly moved, getting my feet underneath me. Simultaneously, I reached for Zander's arm, pulling him up, too. If anything, I wasn't going to be caught sitting around and waiting. Ignoring the whole "prodigy son" bit, I reached out to put a hand on Coe's back, if only to remind him that I was there and to let him know that I was standing.

"What do you want, Andrew?" Coe asked, his voice a warning.

"Just to see our little runaway again. Isn't that right, Bobby? Managed to slip right past us." He added, glancing around Coe. "And, lucky us, we managed to capture a girl and some other guy, too. New friends of yours?" The guy that I assumed was Andrew glanced over us before returning his gaze to Coe. His trembling had only grown stronger. _Don't attack them_, I wanted to whisper to him. _Take your own advice_.

"Funny thing on those two," Someone said from behind Andrew, "They smell like wolf. But they don't smell like Pack. But it's familiar." He added. "And besides, the girl can't be wolf unless she was changed."

"We can't be sure yet, Bobby." Andrew said calmly, his eyes returning to me. I bit back the urge to snarl at him. Of course we smelled like wolf. Zander and I were half werewolf, after all, and our dad was one of the strongest werewolves in the entire world. At least, I liked to think so. And we didn't smell like Pack because we weren't Pack. We weren't their pack, anyway. "Take them inside. We've got some interrogating to do."

# # #

Coe

I didn't want to be separated from Whitney, or even Zander, but that's exactly what they did. They led us into a house with a strong hand on our arm. I knew that I could fight them and probably get out of there. I was trained to survive. I would put money down that Whitney and Zander had been taught by their father, but the three of us had never fought together. It would be hard to find the groove of a team with them in seconds, and I didn't want to be worrying about them when I should've been trying to figure a way out of this.

It was my fault that we were caught, anyway. I had been the one that wanted to have a funeral for Brandon. If I had just accepted the fact that I couldn't do anything for him and moved on, then we wouldn't be in the mess. But then again, Brandon wouldn't have been dead if I hadn't let him get so wrapped up in my business. Guilt ran rampant through me as I let Bobby lead me into the house, in front of Whitney and Zander.

Bobby and Andrew were only a few years older than me. When we'd all been kids, they'd been my tormentors. I hadn't lied when I told Whitney and Zander that I'd moved around a lot, that I'd never lived in the center of the Pack. But there were times when I had been there, especially with the place my dad had held. He'd been important to them, once. But importance could quickly be washed away when it came to the supposed safety of the Pack. Whenever I'd been around, Andrew and his dimwitted crony, Bobby, had put it in their own interest to make sure that I was miserable.

I'd been waiting for a long time to put those jerks in their place. But now was not the time, as much as I wanted it to be. It was clear that, while I was exiled from the Pack by choice (and sort of not by choice), Andrew and Bobby had graduated to doing the grunt work. And I knew that they were pleased with themselves when it came to capturing me. The three of us had a vendetta with each other – Bobby and Andrew on one side, and me on the other.

They sat me down at a table and left me in the room alone. I hadn't been to this particular house before, and I'd never been an interrogation room like this one. I wasn't sure if the Pack had these before I left, but if they didn't, they'd apparently decided to make a few updates. The room wasn't anything like what a police interrogation room would look like. There wasn't a camera and there wasn't a one way mirror. It was just me at a wooden table, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, behind a locked door.

I figured that if I was alone, I could've handled this with ease. But just like I was prone to doing, I'd gone and dragged someone else into the mix. Now Whitney and Zander were in trouble because of me. The Pack was fond of werewolves and nothing else. They didn't like other supernaturals. They said that we didn't belong with them, that we shouldn't mix. If they were that against any other type of supernatural, than two half breeds were bound to cause interest.

I stood up from my chair and went to the door. I wanted to bust it down, find Whitney and Zander, and get the heck out of there while I could. But I had to stop and think. This wasn't just some random attack. The Pack was smart enough to get some things right. They'd be watching me with eagle eyes, especially since I hadn't been on their good list for a long time. I was a threat to them and the happy ignorance they had towards all of the other supernaturals. And the Pack didn't like threats.

**Alright, what do you guys think? It's actually been a while since I've updated. At least, it feels like that to me. I've had an insane writer's block recently. I haven't been able to write **_**anything**_** on my own person works-in-progress. It's been killing me.**

**Anyway, I just happened to check in on FF and decided that it was time for an update. I've got to get around to updating a lot of my stories on here. It looks like I have a goal this week. I'll have to fit it in between watching reruns and reading my new books. (:**

**Like always, leave me a review on your thoughts/questions/comments regarding the chapter, the characters, the plot, or the image (Yes! The new image!) I find it sort of exciting in a weird, sort of sad way that a smile icon such as that can create such a feeling of awesomeness.**

**Sorry. I've been rambling. Look forward to a review in the next few days (hopefully it won't be longer than week!) Peace. (:**


	19. Interrogation

**lindzabeth – Thank you! I know, I was wondering how a fanfiction would be accepted when it wasn't solely about Chloe and Derek, but I try to have enough of them in it to please those Chlerek fans. **

**Krislyn – I love cliffhangers! :D**

**Crixtine – As always, thanks for the faithful review. I figured that cages would be pretty extreme, but since these guys are extreme, I figured that it would be fitting.**

**Craziibuniiz – Wow, thanks. Three times certainly is a lot. Haha. (: And you know what, I never thought about Rae or if she would have any children. How awful of me, but after she sort of disappeared, I sort of forgot she existed. That being said, Rae and her possible children probably don't have a place in this story, though if it continues, it may be fitting that they make an appearance. (:**

**Crying Silently – I don't know if Andrew and Bobby are that perceptive. That being said, I don't know if Coe and Whitney have enough obvious chemistry (given that Whitney refuses to believe it) that they'll pick up on it. (;**

****WARNING: There is some violence in this chapter. You've been warned.****

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_19: Interrogation_

Liz

It turned out that Simon didn't like waiting. Once we decided that we would wait for the kids to arrive in New York, Simon had turned out to be extremely irritable. I guess I could understand where he was coming from. If Derek ever found out that his kids were running around America without adult supervision (the only supervision being a full-blooded werewolf that seemed to have his eyes on Whitney) then he would be out to punish someone. And for his role in it all, Simon was standing there with a neon sign hanging over his head.

"They should be here by now." Simon said. It was a line that he had delivered hundreds of times already. Rick had gone in for work early in the morning and hadn't gotten home yet. Tori, who had already called in for her days off, sat on the couch flipping through a magazine, the TV set on some murder mystery show.

"Chill out, Simon." Tori replied calmly. "We can't be sure what time they left, and even then, we can't expect them to be here at an exact time. Maybe they slept in. Maybe they got caught up in traffic. Maybe they had car troubles and Whitney had to fix her tire." She offered without looking up at her brother.

Simon didn't answer her. Tori sighed and stood up, heading for the tiny kitchen. She opened up one of the cabinet doors and pulled out a glass. Opening the fridge, she poured out some sort of dark red drink, filling the glass halfway before mixing it with lemon-lime soda. She brought it back to the living room and presented it to Simon. "Are you sure that you don't have some sort of anxiety? You're acting just like Rick does when he thinks the government is coming for us." She said. Simon sent her a glare, but he accepted the mixed drink she made him. He took a drink, coughing a little bit. I imagined that the taste of it was pretty strong, even after it was more than halfway doused with soda. "Repeat after me, Simon. _Whitney and Zander can handle themselves_." She said, enunciating each syllable.

Simon rolled his eyes. I picked up the notepad that Tori had left on the coffee table in front of the couch. She had brought it into the living room so I could sit next to her and we could watch reruns of one of her favorite shows. It was a murder mystery, something that I wasn't really sure I would enjoy that much, considering that I was murdered. But in the few hours that we'd been watching it, I'd discovered that I really did like it. Simon was busy having his freak out and Tori was sarcastically trying to calm him down, so neither of them noticed that I'd picked up the notepad and the pen.

_Simon, calm down. I'm sure they're fine. If you really want me to, I can go check up on them._ It was true, I could find them. I had already found Whitney before, and though her glow wasn't as strong as Chloe's, I imagined that I could find her again.

I held out the notepad, but neither of them saw it. Finally, I stood up and put the notepad in between the two of them, holding it a little too closely to Simon's face. He took a step back and took the end of it with one hand, his other still holding on to the drink Tori had made him. Simon's eyes scanned over the words I'd written, and then he turned to look at me. "You can really do that?"

I took the notepad from him and scratched out a long message. _I can try. I might be a little harder because Whitney's not calling me in particular, but I'm sure I can find her. It's kind of like when I found Chloe. If I just look hard enough, I can recognize the glow from someone that I've been close to before. But I can't promise you that it will be immediate. It might be a few days until I find her. Or, it might be a few hours. It depends on how close she is._

Before I could hand the notepad back to Simon, Tori took it from me, reading it out loud. Simon waited impatiently, looking like he wasn't listening to a word that she was saying. When she finished, he snatched the pad from her and read over it.

"Please, Liz? I don't care if it takes a few days to find her. I have to know that she's okay. And if I know that someone's out there looking for her, maybe I'll feel a little better."

Tori spoke up. "Thanks, Liz. And if they get here before you get back, we'll have Whitney summon you, that way you know you can stop looking." I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. I reached over Simon's shoulder to write on the notepad. I could have just put my hand right through him, but that seemed wrong, and I liked to pretend that I was somewhat alive when I was around them. Besides, the pen wouldn't go through his back like my hand would.

_I'll talk to you later. Good luck._

# # #

Coe

They left me alone in the room for three hours. At least, that's how long I thought it had been. There wasn't a clock so I could make sure. Who knows? It could've been thirty minutes. But it felt like a long time as I sat there, staring at the blank wall in front of me. I'd slowly started to tear away at the laminate on the top of the table. I used a small rock that I'd found in my pocket, probably from when we buried Brandon, to start carving into the table.

I had just finished what I thought was a very impressive rendition of a sailboat with stick figure sailors when the door opened. Andrew stepped into the room, followed by Bobby. The two of them looked pleased with themselves as they closed the door behind them. Bobby leaned against it, as if he was standing there to make sure that I couldn't get up and leave the room whenever I wanted to. I guess he really thought that I was that stupid – I was sure that there were other wolves than just the two of them around here.

I realized with a jolt that I was about to ask them what they had done to Whitney. By the looks on their faces, I thought it was safe to assume that they had knocked her unconscious or something. But then I realized that they didn't really know how I felt about Whitney. We weren't even close, not really, and there was no way for them to be able to know that I had an interest in her. If they figured that out, she was doomed. If they wanted to get something out of me, they would go to the one thing that was my weakness. They'd already taken my father and my younger brother. They'd killed my best friend. My other brothers were no longer what I considered family. And, to them, I wouldn't have anything to live for. As a lone wolf, I would be praying for someone to take me in, or for someone to just end my lonely existence.

But I was far from what they wanted me to be. I was not lonely. I was not hopeless. But I wouldn't let them know that. I had no intentions of alerting them to the fact that my wolf was already on protective mode, not just for myself but for Whitney and Zander, as well. They were like family to me, even if Zander and I had more fights than we should have and Whitney was just a friend. Of course, I had no idea how they regarded me, but I liked to think that they would include me in their plan of escape, that I wouldn't just be something that they could forget about.

I wanted to be important to them. To her.

"Hey, Coe." Andrew said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. I curled my hand over the rock. If I needed to, I figured that it could be a weapon. It wouldn't be a very good one, since it was about the size of my fingernail, but it was _something_. And it was something that they hadn't expected me to have. It didn't matter what the weapon was. If I could get a few seconds of frozen surprised shock, that could be a game changer.

"Andrew," I replied curtly. "Bobby."

Bobby didn't reply to me. He stayed at the door with his arms crossed over his chest. When I looked over at him, he growled at me. I fought the urge to laugh at them. The two of them had always had fun making life suck for everyone else. If I had stayed with the Pack, I would have held authority over the two of them. Even though we all knew that the Pack didn't back up my actions anymore, they seemed to be a little afraid of me.

Or maybe they were just afraid of the fact that I was a wild card. I had never done what they wanted me to do. I was always looking for a different way to do something, a different way to handle problems. That had partially been what had made Andrew and Bobby torment me as a child. I was different than they were. I had to be force-fed when given lies, while the two of them swallowed them with smiles.

Andrew leaned back in his seat. "So, Coe, what brings you back to New York? As I recall, you said that when you were gone you were never coming back."

"What do you want, Andrew? You want me to spill out my life story to you?" I asked sarcastically, sharply. Andrew didn't flinch, but I was pretty sure that I saw Bobby wince out of the corner of my eye.

"I want to know why you've decided to show your ugly mug back here again." Andrew replied, his words slipping through his teeth.

"I'm heading up to NYC," I replied. "I've got business there."

"What type of business?" Andrew asked immediately after I answered the question.

Without missing a beat, I answered, "Nothing that concerns you."

Andrew's upper lip twisted into a sneer, and he looked away for a minute. I settled back into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. This was a game to him, and I couldn't help but join in. In all the time that I'd been gone, I'd forgotten about Bobby and Andrew. But now, with them facing me, knowing that they probably had something to do with Brandon's death, I was absolutely livid. I wanted to pound them both into the concrete and leave them there, just like they had left Brandon there after breaking his neck.

"Who's the girl?" Andrew asked suddenly.

I felt my body tense, but I tried my best to relax. "A friend." I said, keeping my voice just as level and strong as it had been earlier. I also worked to keep my face flat and emotionless.

"Just a friend?" Andrew questioned, leaning forward over the table. A disgusting smile started to spread over his lips, and I forced myself not to stomp on his instep underneath the table. He pressed his hands to the top of the table as he stood up. "She's pretty, huh, Bobby?" He asked, without looking over at his henchman. I heard Bobby grunt in agreement. "I don't think I've ever seen hair that dark. And she's pretty fierce, isn't she? Took Bobby to round two to knock her out."

I clenched my fists under the table, trying my hardest not to go off on him. I figured that I could take both him and Bobby, but I wasn't sure who was outside. My mind was screaming out the logical view on all of this. But the wolf deep inside hated every minute of it. I could feel myself starting to shake, my jaw tightening as I sucked in a breath. I was not doing so well on pretending like I was unaffected by Whitney or his taunting of her.

I wasn't sure if Andrew saw it, because he was pretty stupid. I didn't answer, though, just in case I really did something that would put it all out in the open. He leaned back with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest and throwing a look to Bobby. "Here's the one thing I can't figure out: _what_ is she? A human accepted by a pack? A daughter of a werewolf, huh? But she smelled off. There's something weak about her. Not human weak. A different type of weak." Andrew specified. I fought to roll my eyes. "And the guy. Her brother, I guess. They look a lot alike. Sort of you like you and Sammy."

This time, I couldn't stop myself from reacting. I stood up so quickly that my chair hit the ground, cracking as it hit the wall. My fists, clenched tight, hit the bottom of the table, knocking it off balance. Andrew's huge body stopped it from falling over. And he grinned maniacally.

Sam had been my younger brother, the only one that stood by me and my father. He and I were the closest in age, and we looked a lot alike, so much that people tended to think that we were twins. They killed him for threatening the Pack, for possibly unveiling the truth about them to the entire supernatural world. My dad wanted to work _with_ other supernaturals. Sammy and I had agreed. They'd killed my dad for it. They slaughtered Sam for it. Red blurred in my vision as I stepped forward, already planning to slam Andrew into the wall and take Bobby down if I needed to.

Andrew laughed, looking over at his friend. "Look at that!" He crowed. My jaw clenched so tightly I was sure that I was going to break a tooth. Bobby didn't look as amused as Andrew did. As stupid as he was, he couldn't tell when I'd had enough. I guess I didn't really blame him for that. When I was a kid, I would just turn my back and walk away. My dad had said that it was the right thing to do instead of wolfing out of the guy, especially since I was only eight or nine. But now, with my first Change drawing closer and closer by the day, I couldn't push down the urge to knock him down a few notches.

Andrew was not the alpha. I was.

Before Andrew could even turn to look at me, I flung myself over the table. We collided, my weight pushing him into the wall. The sound was like I'd taken a boulder and slammed it against the floor. We hit it so hard that the wall cracked. Bobby jumped up, and instead of turning to whatever backup they supposedly had, he started at me. I twisted sharply, throwing Andrew into Bobby. The two of them collapsed onto each other as I brought my foot back to kick him hard in the ribs, just like he had to me all those years ago, that one time when I hadn't just walked away.

Instead of getting Andrew, my foot caught Bobby's side. Andrew managed to stand up. He rushed me, slamming me into the wooden table. It cracked underneath our combined weight. I wrapped my arm around his neck, trying my best to use the leverage to grind his face into the top of the table. Bobby gasped on the ground. I probably knocked the wind out of him.

I was suddenly aware of the fact that Andrew had his arm pressed down on my throat. He was trying to cut off my air supply. If I didn't get him off me soon, I would black out from the lack of oxygen. And then I really couldn't protect myself then. I didn't know if he was trying to just make me fall into unconsciousness or if he was going to try to go further than that. If he was going to try to get rid of me forever.

# # #

Whitney

"I don't like this." I said. They had taken Coe away from me and Zander and then tossed the two of us into a separate room. It was a small room with a wooden table and blank walls. At least I wasn't alone. But I was currently stuck in a room that was guarded by a bunch of wolves that were bigger, stronger, and faster than I was, and they didn't trust me because I wasn't one of them.

It was enough to give me a major headache.

"I don't think any of us like this." Zander replied. "Even the guys out there are confused as to who and what we are."

"You think they'll hurt us?" I asked. "I mean figuratively, of course. I'm sure we could kick their butts and steal their van." I paused, turning to look at my brother. "Oh, my God. What do you think they did with our stuff? And my car?"

"Don't be so materialistic, Whit." He replied.

"I have the right to." I argued. "Think about it. That stuff is the only things we have from home." _And the special book that I took from Uncle Simon's office_, I thought. "And my car is the only way that we're going to be able to get to New York. We're so _screwed_."

"Your optimism is infectious."

"Can you _not_ be a pain in the butt right now?" I asked sharply. I immediately sort of regretted it. Zander was just trying to uplift the mood, and since I was being such a downer he'd resolved to being snarky, just like I did. When it doubt, let the sarcasm out.

Zander rolled his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut. I paced the room, eyes on the ground as I struggled to think of something to do. My dad had trained me to do whatever I needed to be safe. He'd always told me that I needed to look at things in a different way, that I needed to be clever and observant, and that I needed to use anything I could find to protect myself.

As I paced, I took stock of what I had. We had a wooden table, four fold-up chairs, and two werewolf-necromancer half breeds. It wasn't much. And honestly, what could I do with a table? Sure, if I leaned it up against the door there was the possibility that it would keep the werewolves out, but Zander and I didn't need to be locked up in here. We needed _out_.

Suddenly, a sound hit the wall so hard that it reverberated through the room Zander and I were stuck in. I immediately turned to look at it. It didn't look damaged from my side of the room, but that didn't mean it was fine on the other. And that's when I heard it, the sound of grunts as bodies connected. They were _fighting_ in there. And there was immediately no doubt in my mind that it was Coe.

Zander scrambled up from his chair, nearly flipping it over the process. I turned and headed straight for the door, wrapping my fingers around the handle. It didn't budge – it was locked on the outside. I drew back and faced the door for a second before kicking it as hard as I could. It shook, it made a cracking sound, but it didn't break down. I tried again, angling my foot to hit a little closer to the knob.

Right before I went to kick, the door flew open. I didn't think that it wasn't that big of a deal – I would just knock someone down with the force behind my foot. But instead of connecting with someone's gut, my foot passed right through them and I tumbled to the ground, rolling to a stop. I had squeezed my eyes shut as I tumbled, and when I opened them I realized that I was face-to-face with someone who was asleep on the ground.

I looked up, my muscles already bunching together as if I was just going to launch myself at whoever was standing at the door. I had no idea why, it obviously wouldn't work. I'd just flown through them the first time. I glanced up just in time to see a face that I recognized. The moment I saw it, relief flooded my chest.

She was wearing the exact same clothes she'd been wearing last time I'd seen her, ridiculous socks and all. Her long blonde hair hung over her shoulder, not a single hair out of place. She looked down at me with a look of concern on her face. She flashed me a small smile, her eyes lighting up as Zander scooted around her, exiting the room. That's when I realized that she was holding something – a thick metal pipe that she must have grabbed from outside. She must have knocked the guards over the head with it.

I let out a sigh, a huge smile crossing over my face. "Liz."

# # #

Watson

I wanted to be there. I did. The meeting with Mr. St. Cloud was supposed to be today. I had gotten the memo the moment we'd landed in the airport in Utah. It was supposed to be next month. I had already planned to be back at the lab by that time, whether we had the half breeds or not. I was hoping that they would already be in my grasp and I could add to my stash of genetically altered freaks, but I didn't have the chance. Instead, they were going to talk about who should take the position I'd been vying for all of my life, since Davidoff had died, without me.

My trustworthy acquaintance – a young woman named Helena – had emailed me on my phone to let me know that she had already planned to remove the werewolf and his mate from their cells and place them in the room, just to prove how much I could change things around the lab. I hadn't failed, like the rest of them had. I was still in the race, and I was leagues ahead of everyone else.

Still, I wished that I could be there. I wanted to see St. Cloud's face when he saw that I had done what he and Davidoff and so many others after him had deemed impossible. He had to see the asset I could be after that. For so long, he'd been wondering where his little experiments had gone, what they had done. And I had the answer right in front of me: they'd tried to be normal, they'd created a monstrous family. And I was determined to show him that I could turn a bad situation into a good one – two naturally made half breeds. I would tie them down, experiment with their genomes, and see what I could create with that technology. They had wanted to see what they could do to make supernatural weapons, after all. If I could find the perfect mix of the supernatural breeds, I could be solely responsible for an undefeatable army.

And then everyone would see exactly what I was worth.

**And so the plan comes out. I know, it's been a long time waiting. But hopefully it makes all of you say "OMG."**

**And I know, so long waiting. I've been working on some of my own stuff that I really, really want to finish. As always, interest waxes and wanes. But I'm determined to finish something **_**good**_**. So I truly am sorry if you were annoyed at the lack of updating. (I've also been forming plans for other fanfictions, because I obviously haven't already bitten off more than I can chew.)**

**Anyway. I wanted to apologize for any errors of any kind. I realize that this story takes a different view on some of the things that Mrs. Armstrong detailed – particularly the Pack and maybe even a little bit about the ghosts. And, as always, I want to ask that you review it and let me know your comments/criticism.**

**Thank you so much for reading! Be looking forward to an update in the future! Peace. (:**


	20. Jailbreak

**fireicegirl16 – Coeney. I like that. Hahaha (:**

**Crying Silently – You know, I keep finding Watson to be more and more awesome, even though I can't stand him! ._.**

**Fighter61998 – I didn't stop! (; The greatest excuse in the book is the one that I'm going to pull out: life got in the way of my updating. And it doesn't really help that I've been devouring books like a hungry wolf and have started creating other fanfictions, as well as my own personal projects. (:**

**Only three reviews for this last chapter? I'm crushed. Even so, I'm updating! (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_20: Jailbreak_

Whitney

"How'd you find us?" Zander asked from behind Liz. He stood in the doorway, clearly amused that I was lying down on the floor after falling right through our ghostly friend. I stood up, making a face at the guard that had been knocked unconscious. I was pretty sure that he was _snoring_.

"I followed your glow." She answered. "All necromancers have a glow and –"

Her words were cut off by the loud banging coming from the next room over. Liz's eyebrows drew together as I scrambled up, using the wall for support. My ankle hurt a little from my oh-so-graceful tumble, but it would be fine.

"We know about the glow," Zander said, stepping around her. He seemed to forget that Coe was in some sort of battle in the room that was _right there_. I bent down next to the guard, my ankle screaming, as I quickly searched his pockets for any sort of keys. He had to have some, right? I tried to search as fast as I could without waking him up, though I wasn't sure that he would wake up easily from the gash on the back of his head. I could see the blood now, a thin trickle that was already starting to dry as it ran down his cheek. I was starting to lose hope that he would have a set of keys – and honestly, the grunts and shouts coming from what I assumed to be Coe's interrogation room weren't helping.

"Are you looking for these?" Liz asked. She was in front of another guard, picking up the keys that were lying, clear as day, on the ground. "I dropped them when you ran into me." She stated. I glanced over her for a moment. She certainly did look funny with all her sweet girl-next-door-ness and a metal pipe like a baseball bat over her shoulder.

"Yeah," I said shortly, standing up and taking them from her grasp. The ring had at least forty keys on it. I cursed under my breath as I neared the door, searching through them to find the right one. I knew from experience that locks sometimes have numbers on them that match the key. I got about eye-level with the lock. Just above the keyhole, it read _X9_. Quickly, I flipped through the keys, praying that there was an X9 in there somewhere. Luck was on my side – it was the second to last key on the ring.

Shoving it into the lock, I twisted hard. The entire door gave a sort of heavy sigh as the bolt slid back. I didn't bother to yank the keys out, flinging open the door.

Honestly, I wasn't sure what to expect. Somehow, by the noise that they were making, I would have figured that there would be blood and guts painting the walls. Instead, one of the punks that had kidnapped us – the one that I had actually fought back at the motel – was lying on the ground, wheezing as if he was having an asthma attack. The wall that connected Coe's interrogation room with mine had a slight crack in it, as if someone had been body slammed into it. Coe had his arms around the other guy's neck, and the other guy had him. It looked like a stalemate to me. Neither of them were going to win if they fought like that.

I darted into the room, grabbing a handful of hair from the other guy. With a quick yank, I pulled his head back despite the fact that Coe had it pretty securely arm-locked. He loosened his grip on Coe, who pulled away a little bit. His hand came up to the back of the guy's skull. I let go of my hold on his hair just as Coe decided to slam his forehead into the table. I winced at the sound of it. The guy groaned, laying there as Coe took a step back, wiping the back of his hand across his face.

I took a moment to look at him. Coe's hair was disheveled, and not in the cute I-just-woke-up way. It was like a cow had literally licked the back of his head, since half his hair seemed to be standing on end. His nose didn't look broken, but there was blood trailing down his lip. One of his cheekbones was red and already starting to bruise. Despite that, he flashed me a slightly pained grin.

He looked like he was about to say something when the guy lying against the table started to move. He groaned and brought a hand to his head. "Andrew," Coe said, grabbing the back of the guy's shirt. The words ripped out of him in a snarl that was actually kind of scary. I took a step back, glancing towards the door. Liz was wielding her pole, and I heard the sound of a scuffle going on. By the sounds of it, they had more guards.

I reached out to grab Coe's arm. "Come on, we've got to go _now_." He glanced up. Within seconds, his eyes widened and he let go of Andrew's shirt. His hand latched onto mine, yanking me forward. Right about that time, someone collided into me. I tripped forward, grabbing the front of Coe's shirt to keep me standing. It just meant that when I hit the ground, I pulled him down with me. We tumbled to the ground, knocking the table to the floor with us.

Someone was lying on my legs. I kneed up instinctively, catching whoever it was in the stomach. It couldn't have been Coe, because he was at my head, partially lifting up the table. I kicked again, bringing my leg over whoever it was. I flipped him over, my head nearly hitting the side of the table. The moment I was sitting, prepared to beat someone up, I recognized the guy who I'd fought with at the motel. He wasn't as good of a fighter as he thought he was, but he had still managed to best me. This time, though, I had the upper hand. He was pinned down to the floor, after all.

Without wasting time, I delivered a sharp punch to his face. The guy was out like a light. He'd been the one that was lying on the floor earlier, so it was safe to assume that he'd gotten his fair share of beatings today, and that's why he was so easy to take down. But I still liked to think that I'd knocked him out in one punch because of how awesome I was.

"Come on," Coe said, grabbing the back of my shirt. He hauled me to my feet and practically dragged me out the door. I turned and slammed it shut, locking it into place. It looked like Liz and Zander had taken out another few guards. I clapped my brother on the shoulder and turned to pull the keys out of the door.

"Um, guys?" Liz asked. I glanced over at her, and she pointed down the hallway. "I say we run. It looks like these aren't the only guards here."

"How many werewolves are here, anyway?" Zander hissed. I yanked the keys out of the keyhole just as Zander grabbed my arm, dislodging them from my grasp. I didn't have the time to stop and grab them, so I just left them on the floor. I looked down the hallway to see a group of guards running towards us. Panic shot through me as I reached for Zander's wrist and dragged him after me, jumping over an unconscious guard.

Our footsteps – with the exception of Liz's – pounded on the hallway floor as we ran to the end. It forked off in two directions. I started to turn to the left with Coe caught the back of my shirt. "We need to go this way," He said. I looked down to the left and then down to the right. I wanted to go my way, but I had the feeling that Coe, who said that he'd never been here before, knew which way he was going. I figured that I would just hash it out with him later and trust him now. Honestly, it was a little uncharacteristic of me. Zander was the one that blindly trusted.

But it was Coe. So it wasn't really that blind, right?

He and Zander both seemed surprised when I agreed. I turned and hauled butt down the hallway, determined to find out way out of this. Coe ran behind me and I eventually let go of Zander's wrist. We turned a sharp corner and I nearly tripped on the edge of a rug. Embarrassment washed over me at nearly falling flat on my face, but it was hidden behind the constant pounding of _we need to get out of here_. Coe still reached out and caught my elbow, helping to right me as we ran.

"This way," Coe said, breaking off from the main hallway and taking a short, narrow, dark hallway. I paused to think about it. I mean, I'm not as big of a movie fan as my mother, but I knew better than to go traipsing down dark hallways in the middle of a dangerous place. I wasn't _stupid_.

"Whitney," Coe said, pausing as Zander and Liz barreled past him. Liz was still carrying her pipe. To me, she looked funny. To Coe, it would look like a floating pipe heading down the hallway. I wasn't sure which would be more interesting. "Come on, there's a back door at the very end of this hall. Hopefully there's a van nearby that we can grab." He said. I stood there for half a second longer and he said, "I know, okay. I know that you're not going to trust me all that easily. I know that we've only known each other for like, a week, but _still_. Please!"

It was the please that did it. No, I'm not just running down the hallway following a full-blooded werewolf because he was well-mannered. It was because of the way he said it. It was sort of like he was begging me. I'd never known a werewolf to talk that way to anyone when he knew full well that he could _try_ to force me to do whatever he wanted. I got the feeling that he didn't want me to get hurt.

And honestly, I think what it reminded me of was my dad, asking my mom to _please don't do anything stupid_.

I nodded almost imperceptibly, and Coe visibly relaxed. He gave me what I'm sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile as he motioned for me to go in front of him. I could see Zander and Liz, halfway down the hall. They'd paused to see what we were standing there talking about. When they saw me running towards them, they picked up again.

Zander hit the door first. I had honestly expected that it would be locked and wouldn't open, but apparently the werewolves were stupider than I thought they were. It glided open easily. Liz was close behind him. She darted to the left and motioned for us to follow. She led us down a dirt path, and in the distance, I could see guards busting out of the front door.

"Run faster!" I hissed, hoping that Zander and Coe could hear me. They certainly didn't miss the guards rushing towards us. Honestly, I was just a little faster than the average human, with slightly heightened senses and the ability to find a dead body in the dead of night. Those guys were full-blooded werewolves, graced with speed and power that I would never understand.

Coe was easily faster than the rest of us. He reached one of the vans, paces ahead of me. I could see him reach under the dash and yank out a handful of brightly colored wires. Zander wasn't far behind, and I did my best to keep up with them. But we half breeds were no match for the full-blooded real deal. I knew that I was in trouble the moment I saw Liz turn around, her blue eyes going wide.

Hands grabbed me around the waist and I was shoved to the ground. We hit hard, and I tried to roll over to scrabble with my opponent. Whoever they were, they were big and heavy, and it really wasn't easy to move with all of their weight pressing me in the dirt. I heard Zander call my name just in time to look up and see him holding his own against two guards.

I twisted sharply, bringing my elbow into my attacker's face. He grunted, and I felt blood spray over me. I was pretty sure that I'd managed to beat him right in the nose. With his attention focused on his bleeding face, I moved to bring up my knee. He was too heavy for me to flip over, and all of the lessons that my dad had instilled in me – partly against my mom's wishes – kicked in. My dad had always taught Zander to fight with basic brute force. He was more of a werewolf than I was, probably due to the fact that he was a boy, and he would have a better chance of having a fight of strength. For me, most of my lessons were based on how to defend myself and distract the enemy. I knew both styles, just like Zander did, but just as my dad had predicted, I always did better when I was strategically dirty fighting, using my opponent's weight and weakness to take him down.

My attacker seemed to think that he had won the battle, since he knew that I wasn't strong enough to fling him over my head and off of me. But he wasn't expecting my next move. My dad had always said that I'd had a hard head. I lifted up sharply, my forehead bashing with the guy's already wounded nose. He howled with pain and I brought my fist up to hit him right in the side of the neck, just under his jaw. He tipped over from my sudden attack and I kicked him off me, scrambling to stand up. More were coming, I knew that.

It didn't take long me to be tackled again, but this time I managed to hold my own for a little longer. I dodged a punch and hit the back of the guy's head, bringing my knee up so that he smashed his face on the bone. It certainly hurt me – my head was pounding and my elbow was stinging from fighting the first guy – but it was the only way that I knew to get out of this situation.

Physical fighting had never really been my strong suit. I was, as my dad had once said, a verbal fighter. I could easily take down people with mind games and words, usually with the help of my cynical sarcasm. But I could handle myself. It wasn't really one of my better traits. Not many people knew about it. I had never thought about joining the school wrestling team (why would I?) and I had never attempted to do any type of female boxing. The only fights I would have ever gotten in where at school. Guys, even when they're mad, don't want the reputation of hitting girls so they don't bother me all that much. Girls are too worried about their fake nails and made-up faces to actually do anything other than cat-fight, which was screaming and pulling hair and occasionally biting. It was more like watching a bunch of toddlers argue over a toy than an actual fight.

And so I guess that meant that I was a little out of shape. Besides, when I was training with my dad and Zander, I knew that they would never hurt me. But these guys… these guys really did want to hurt me. If they could have, they would have knocked me down any way that they could. I couldn't help but wonder if they would do to me what they did to Brandon, Coe's deceased best friend.

Distantly, I heard the engine of one of the vans rev. In the back of my mind, I hoped that Coe had managed to hotwire one of the cars so that we could get out of here. The only problem was reaching the van and then getting them off our tail. As Zander knew, I was apparently an expert at dodging people and consequently running people into ditches. It's not exactly something to be proud about, but it was helpful.

And that still depended on whether or not I could reach the van with all of my limbs still intact.

I heard the screech of wheels and then the sound of people screaming. I looked up to see Coe barreling towards me in the van. Zander delivered a sharp punch to his opponent and jumped into the open side door of the van. He slammed the door shut after him. My distraction gave my attacker enough time to try to take me down. Right as he did, Coe squealed to a stop by me. He flung open the van door and reached out, grabbing the back of my attacker's shirt. He pulled him towards the side of the van, dragging me with him. Coe brought his arm back and to deliver a punch to the guy's face right as I went in for a hard kick where it would really hurt him. He crumpled under our dual attack. Coe slid across the bench seat, wedging himself in between me and Zander. I leapt up behind the wheel, noticing that, on the three-person seat, Liz was perched on dashboard just in front of Zander. Her pole was lying on the floorboards at his feet.

"Drive to your car," She told me. "You can't keep this for long, and it will lead them right to Tori and Simon. I'll let them know that you've just broken out of there and are headed their way." She reached out, over Coe, as if she was going to touch me. "And then drive straight there. Don't stop for anything. And be on guard." I could tell that she was being dead serious (no pun intended), her blue eyes blazing as I glanced at her. "I'll find you."

With that, she was gone.

# # #

My car was still sitting in the parking lot of the motel. We hadn't been gone for long, so it probably wasn't all that suspicious. We all jumped out of the van. I scrambled for my keys, hoping that they hadn't gotten lost during the fight. I'd shoved them into my front pocket when we buried Brandon, and I hadn't even thought to make sure that they were still there until I was standing in front of my car.

Coe and Zander turned to push the van behind a copse of trees. I sighed with relief when I found my keys. I unlocked the doors, checked to make sure that all of our bags were still in the back seat, and dropped into the driver's bucket seat. My entire body felt like it had been run over by a semi. Even my _hair_ felt sore. I looked down at my hands on the steering wheel. I'd broken a nail, which wasn't really a big deal for me, but it hurt like heck. It had ripped all the way down to the skin, stinging and bloody. And it wasn't the only one like that. My forehead was still pounding from my impromptu head-butt (at least it had worked) and my knee was sore from kneeing that guy in the face. It hurt to move my foot from the gas pedal to the brakes.

Zander pulled open the passenger door and practically dived into the car. I heard Coe settle in between all of our bags, pulling the door shut behind him. "Let's go. The faster we get away from here, the better." He added. I pushed the car into reverse and flew out of the parking spot.

"This time," I said, my eyes darting to the rearview mirror, where Coe's eyes reflected into mine, "We're not making any stops. Drive-thru only for food, and if you've got to pee, hold it." He smiled at my brashness, and nodded slightly. I found myself smiling in return, despite the fact that I'd felt like I'd just going into a fight with the Incredible Hulk.

Even my face hurt.

# # #

Simon

"The _Pack_ had them?" I demanded, staring down at the note Liz had written down on the notepad. Rick hadn't gotten back to the apartment from work yet, so it was still me and Tori. In the hours since Liz had left to go check up on the kids, I'd gotten a little more anxious. Tori couldn't believe it. Liz leaving was supposed to make me feel better. But with every passing second that she was gone, I was worried that she wouldn't be able to find them _at all_.

And now she returned with news that they'd just broken out of the Pack's buildings. Derek, who hadn't had any dealings with them in years, would be beyond angry. I couldn't decide if it was because of Coe, or if they'd picked up on the reportedly strange scent that Whitney and Zander had. Either way, Derek's kids had been in danger and closer to werewolves than he had ever wanted them to be.

_But they got out. They're on their way here_. Liz wrote quickly, her letters scribbled across the page. I knew she was trying to be reassuring, but I wasn't really sure that it was working. Whitney, Zander, and Coe should have just stayed home. If they had never bothered to do something this troublesome in the first place then I wouldn't be pacing Tori's apartment, wondering if Derek was just going to be mad at me or if he was going to personally murder me.

"See, Simon?" Tori asked from her seat on the couch. She was still incredibly immersed in her murder mystery. She'd even made popcorn and cracked open a can of soda, as if she were at the movie theatres. It was, apparently, a marathon, which meant that all of these shows were reruns. Tori, who had always had a problem with reruns, didn't seem to mind. She even went so far as to tell me who had done what before the show even ended, utterly ruining it for me. "They can handle themselves. They're totally capable."

"I wouldn't say capable." I replied back. "If they were capable, they wouldn't have gotten caught in the first place."

"Oh, like _you_ were never captured and held hostage. I distinctly remember hanging around a crumbling building because you were passed out in some lab."

"I am _diabetic_." I argued.

Tori waved her hand at me, reaching for another handful of popcorn. "Excuses, excuses," she replied. "Hey, look, this is one of my favorite episodes. It's that guy behind the counter at the gas station. _Totally_ did not see it coming the first time I watched it."

I reached out and picked up the remote, snapping the TV off. Tori's mouth dropped open and she practically shoved her bowl to the side. "Excuse me! That is _my_ TV!"

"Can we focus on something more important, like Chloe and Derek? Or maybe the fact that their underage kids are roaming around the east coast, trying to make their way to New York City while being attacked by werewolves?"

"You," Tori said, narrowing her eyes at me, "Are _the_ most cynical person I've ever met. Sometimes I think you're worse than Derek!"

The notepad was yanked from my hands, the pen working across the page. _I'm rolling my eyes at the two of you. I promised Whitney that I would return to make sure that they got here okay. I'm going to go find them. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone._

# # #

Watson

"What do you mean, there's not Jacob Rigsby in the phonebook?" I demanded, hands squeezing the cold coffee that someone had brought me. The cup broke, spilling caramel-colored caffeine onto the floor.

"Sir," One of the men said, "The werewolf mentioned that it was just an alias. He's probably listed under some other name."

I glared at him. I had no idea who he was. He didn't look familiar in the least. "Who are _you_?" I snapped. "What are you doing here? Where is Baldwin?" I asked, throwing the crumpled coffee cup on the ground. I stepped over the puddle on the sidewalk and towards the van. A bunch of those idiots that I'd paid to work on this trip were sitting around a makeshift table, playing cards. "You morons," I hissed. "Get out of the van and find me Jacob Rigsby."

**I am so, so sorry for the ridiculously long wait. As always, I've had other things going on (mostly other fanfictions and personal works because, yes, I am hopelessly addicted to my computer and have no life… sigh.) **

**As always, I thank you for reading and hope that you take the time to leave me a review in the box below. Thanks for your continued support! Peace. (:**


	21. Arrival

**alliycat3101 – I myself like a bit of action. Fighting is also so epic. Though I find it more interesting to watch it in a movie than read it in a book. Sigh. And no worries; Coe is stuck with the group for a while.**

**BritPit – Lol, I literally laughed at that. Of course no one wins in a head butt. I have yet to try it myself, for obvious reasons, but I'm sure it hurts more than the action movies let on. (:**

**lindzabeth – No worries! I was just looking forward to more reviews, so I was a little crestfallen. I just have to get over myself. :P And yes, the art of dramatic irony. Makes us feel so much smarter, doesn't it? Besides, Watson may think he's smart, but he's not as brilliant as he believes himself to be! Bad guys never are! Haha (;**

**fireicegirl16 – Me too! And they're always so much fun to write. (:**

**Crying Silently – Lol, very rarely have I ever seen someone love the bad guy as much as you seem to. But then again, he is sort of loveable in a crazy sort of way. (:**

**fighter61998 – Will do!**

**I am so profusely sorry for the amount of time it took for me to upload. I guess this story just got away from me as I created new fanfictions (some of which I have recently deleted.) I finished four other fanfictions, and am almost done with another DP one. And then so much time had passed that I had to sit down and read this over from the beginning. So I'm really, really sorry. Hopefully, I'll be able to pound out the rest of the chapters – I expect that there will be only a few more until I reach the end of this – and we'll be able to move on.**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_21: Arrival_

Chloe

"Vance," I repeated. I'd remembered his face, but not his name. Vance was dark-skinned, his head shaved bald, a slight, devious smile touching his lips. The last I'd seen him, I was nearing sixteen. He'd been nice enough, someone that Kit had known back when he still worked with the Edison Group. We'd stayed in a town in southern New York for about a week when we saw him in passing. Kit had recognized him, but before we could run, he'd recognized Kit. I had barely remembered it until Derek said his name.

"Nice to see you two again," Vance said calmly. He didn't seem bothered in the least that he'd just admitted to seeing us long ago, in front of people that had been chasing us for even longer. "I have you say, though, I almost didn't recognize you at first. Twenty years has been kind to you, Mrs. Souza." In the cage next to mine, Derek let out a low growl.

Vance paused by Derek's cage. "How is Kit? I trust he's doing well. He's been off our radar for so long that it's almost as if he never existed." He smiled, his teeth bright white. Vance had to be around sixty, by now. His face was wider with age, his eyes bloodshot and a little yellow. Derek just stood there, glaring at him. When we were kids, we had a few bumps in the road as we ran. One of them had been when Derek's family had kidnapped him in an attempt to keep him away from us other supernaturals, and another time had been when we'd run into Vance. We hadn't gotten far before Vance tracked us down at our motel. He'd gotten word that Kit had escaped with failed experiments in tow, and Vance had threatened to take us in. The only reason we'd gotten out was because Kit had surprised Vance with a knock-back spell, and Derek had tackled him to the ground. We'd left him unconscious in our motel bed, and we were gone. I had honestly never expected to see him again.

He smiled when Derek didn't answer. He even had the audacity to wink at me as he stepped confidently between our cages. If we really wanted to, Derek and I could've reached out and stopped him right there, but it wasn't worth it, not with those guards and their big guns. Instead, we both glared at him as he passed.

"Helena," he said brightly. Even though he was smiling, I could hear the tone in his voice that said he was faking it. Whoever this Helena was, he wasn't happy to see her in the least.

The woman that had escorted me to the shower stepped forward. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her eyes were hard and cold. "Vance," she replied. Her fingers tightened on the gun she was holding. For the first time, I also noticed that there was a pistol on her belt. "I thought you were arriving with Mr. St. Cloud."

My heart dropped. I recognized the name St. Cloud. I was still unsure of what he was really in charge of, but I knew he was our enemy. My heart thudded in my chest. I remembered that name. He was the one that they had talked about after we Diriel tore down the building. It had belonged to him. Goose flesh rose over my skin. I drifted away from Derek, towards the heavy metal door. There was a heavy lock on it. I knew that I wouldn't be able to force it open, and I didn't have a clip or anything that I could try to use to pick it.

Vance shrugged. "He had other things to attend to, and should be here within a few hours. He sent me ahead to make sure things were to his liking. You know Mr. St. Cloud doesn't have time for setbacks." He said it cruelly, as if Helena herself had caused some setbacks in the past. Helena glanced away from him, looking a bit ashamed. I assumed that she _had_, in fact, been a part of some plan gone wrong in the past. "Where is Dr. Watson? I was under the impression that he hoped to take the position of lead scientist."

"He is. Unfortunately, with this meeting moved up, he is out of town." Helena answered. I could tell that she was trying to sound superior, but we all knew that Vance had the higher position than she did. As it was, he was trusted employee of _the_ Mr. St. Cloud, and Helena was just Watson's lackey.

"Where is he?" I got the feeling that he was just asking to prove that he could, and that Helena would have no choice to answer him. He stepped away and approached the chairs on the raised platform. The one in the middle was probably intended for Mr. St. Cloud. I figured the others were set up as some kind of council.

"He's collecting his next experiment," Helena answered. Her eyes met mine for a second, but then she looked away. Without Vance asking, she began to elaborate. "Mr. St. Cloud has told us about his quest to create supernatural super soldiers. Dr. Watson is attempting to find the answer, the sooner the better. I'm sure Mr. St. Cloud would agree."

Vance looked up, seemingly intrigued. His eyes bore into Helena. There was something in his eyes that said he resented Helena, and nothing she said would ever change that. Vance opened his mouth to reply. Right then, his cell phone rang. He looked at the screen, held up a finger in Helena's direction, and stepped out of the room to take the call.

My back slid down the bars until I was sitting on the floor. My heart was thumping madly in my chest. It suddenly all made sense, why they'd asked for Whitney and Zander's location. They _were_ half-breeds, and while there were probably several others in the world, I doubted that there were werewolf-necromancer half-breeds. Derek's kind didn't connect with other supernaturals, and necromancers weren't all that common.

_Super soldiers_, my mind echoed. That's what they wanted. They wanted to take my children and study them. Maybe they were going to try to undo their DNA and see what it was that made them the way they were. But I had a feeling that if they captured Whitney and Zander, they'd face worse than I'd had to worry about at their age.

Derek and I managed to connect gazes. I knew he'd come to the same realization that I did. If there was anything that we needed to do, it was to keep them from finding Whitney and Zander. It wouldn't hurt to get out of here before St. Cloud showed up, as well, but if I could only have one, I'd always choose the protection of my children before anything else, even myself.

# # #

Watson

"Sir," one of the men said. "We have been unable to find any Jacob Rigsby in the Utah database. We also searched for Jacob Rigsby as an alias, and were unable to find anything. Sir." He added the last word as an afterthought. I glared at him. Where had these guys come from? They were useless.

When I didn't answer him, he looked at the man standing next to him. "Get out of my sight." I hissed angrily. We'd flown all the way to Utah with the idea that I'd be coming back with two necromancer-werewolf half-breeds in tow. I would be a scientific hero. But instead, I'd been tricked.

I'd been so sure that the werewolf wasn't lying to me. His need to protect his mate should've made him do anything to insure her protection, even giving up the location of his children. To my understanding, the pack came second to the mate. Wolves were social, but they weren't sentimental. "Get back in the van." I barked at whoever was passing. We needed to get back to the airport and board our plane. I needed to return to New York. I would kill the werewolf and his mate myself if I needed to. I had a reputation to protect, and a promotion to obtain.

# # #

Whitney

My eyes were tired and dry. I blinked rapidly a few times, trying to see. It was starting to get dark, and we had just crossed the New York border. Zander was sleeping in the passenger seat, using the window as a pillow. I glanced in my rearview mirror. Coe had brought out a book of all things a few hours ago, and he was still reading even though the light was dimming.

I kept my left hand on the wheel and reached over the middle console with my right, opening the glove box. I had an address book that had Aunt Tori's apartment address and number under the name "Victoria Flemmings," just in case anyone managed to take my address book from me. I tried to flip through it while keeping my eye on the traffic.

Coe reached over and tapped lightly on my shoulder. "Give me the book. I'll tell you were to go," he said.

I handed it back to him without arguing. We hadn't talked much since we got back into the car. When we were driving our stolen van, it had felt like there was no room for talking. We were all too panicked to say anything. We'd just barely escaped. We'd had to fight our way out tooth and nail, and even then we weren't sure if we'd make it back to my car before the Pack caught up with us. When we managed to get into my car, it was all about getting as far away as possible as fast as possible. And then Zander had fallen asleep, and it still didn't feel right to talk about the fact that I'd been scared for him, or that he had ultimately saved me.

I gnawed on my lip, looking in between my rearview mirror and the road. The road was a bit crowded as I braked for someone going twenty miles under the speed limit. "Look under Victoria Flemmings," I told him. I could practically feel his confusion. "It's the codename for my aunt. Half of those addresses aren't even real." I added. The only real addresses in the book were for my Aunt Tori, Uncle Simon, my grandpa, and my friend Jaime. All of the others were ones that I had just made up. It was supposed to be smart, and that was why I'd told him. But then I realized that it just made me look like a shut-in with no friends.

And then again, it wasn't like Coe had a huge friends list.

"Right." He said, flipping through the pages. "That's smart." He added as a comment. It would be a lie if I said that I didn't feel a rush of happiness when he said it. Apparently, our mind tracks were pretty similar. The moment I thought it, I turned away from him, determined not to show him that I wanted to look back at him and smile. First of all, my dad had warned me away from werewolves, and I didn't need him hating Coe for any reason. Second, I'd only known him for a while. Even though he had saved me in that time, and we'd decided to go on some wild adventure together, it didn't mean much of anything.

For a moment, all I heard was the sound of Coe flipping through the pages in my address book. "Okay," he said suddenly, "I found it." I looked back to catch a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror and nearly jumped out of my skin. It didn't stop the girlish squeal that escaped from my mouth or the way my fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Liz gave me an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," she whispered, running her hands through her long blonde hair. I realized that her socked feet were propped up on my center console. She was sitting on top of my duffel bag and Coe's backpack. "I was worried that you were a lot farther back. You've made good time."

"Yeah, well," I said, giving a shrug. Coe's eyebrows drew together. "I sped most of the way, to be honest. And no bathroom breaks were allowed." I added. Liz gave me another amused smile. "Is Uncle Simon still at Aunt Tori's?" I asked. I looked into the rearview again. Coe still looked confused. "It's Liz," I told him, and he mouthed "oh" and nodded briefly before looking around, as if he was going to be able to see her.

"He's still there. And he's not happy about you driving up here." She answered. "If I remember correctly, your friend here was supposed to keep you from leaving the house."

"Coe made a promise to Uncle Simon?" I asked. I had already sort of guessed that, but it was different to have it confirmed. And honestly, I didn't feel too upset about it, like I thought I would've. In fact, I was a little flattered that Simon had asked that of Coe, and that he'd agreed. And even though he made the promise, he didn't stop me from leaving because he knew it was impossible.

Coe looked away, and in the dimming light, I thought I saw his face flush a little bit. "Oops," Liz whispered. "I don't think I was supposed to say that."

"It's fine." I told her. "I already guessed it, honestly." She nodded, but she still seemed a little embarrassed at letting that little piece of information slip. "Hey," I said to her, "do you think you could help us get to Aunt Tori's."

"Sure," Liz said, perking up. I had the feeling that all she really wanted was to help others. It was admirable. I didn't think that if I was murdered I would be all that willing to help other people, even if they were my friend's kids. Liz leaned forward, folding her hands over the curve of my seat. If I thought about it hard enough, I could've sworn that I felt her breath in my hair. Twenty minutes of silence passed, and she said, "Take the next exit." I did as she said, flipping on my blinker and pulling across two lanes.

I'd never been to New York City before. Aunt Tori had always come down to Florida to visit us. But I had always wanted to see the city. I wasn't really sure what to expect. But it was grander than anything my mind could've thought up. There were lights everywhere, even though we weren't that far into the city. It felt like there were a lot of people, but I knew that there were more closer towards the center of the city.

It took what felt like forever to get into the general area of Aunt Tori's apartment, and even longer to find a parking space that didn't have a meter. I reached over to wake up Zander, who jerked away from me and whacked his head on the window before pulling on his shoes. Coe got out and handed Zander his bag, and then gave me mine. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, and I triple-locked my car doors.

"Don't look anybody in the eye, Tori told me. You don't want anyone to recognize you or anything." Liz said, hovering by my shoulder. I relayed the information for Coe, and we all kept our heads down, trying to appear normal despite the fact that we were travel worn and carrying our bags with us. Maybe anybody that saw us would just think that we were a group of homeless people that had banded together and were trying to find a place to sleep for the night. The chances of that actually happening was slim, but it made me feel better.

Liz directed us to Aunt Tori and Uncle Rick's apartment. I hadn't seen either one of them in a long time, though I sometimes talked to Aunt Tori on the phone. We stepped into the lobby and tried to avoid the look over the night guard behind the desk. He was dozing, and we didn't know if he would ask for our names and the person we were visiting, so we tried to be quiet as we quickly made our way to the stairs. Zander had wanted to use the elevator, but Coe and I had agreed that we didn't want to wait for it in case the guard woke up, and I had a fear that he would hear the ding of the elevator doors when they opened and catch us trying to sneak up. Though I wasn't really sure if it mattered all that much; Aunt Tori's apartment wasn't one of the really expensive ones.

We climbed up four flights of stairs, and by the time we reached the top, I felt like I was out of breath. I must've been more out of shape than I thought. Thankfully, Zander was huffing and puffing right next to me. Coe, though, was either not bothered at all by the quick workout or he hid his exhaustion well. Liz wasn't breathing any harder than she had been before. She led us directly to the stairwell door and pointed us in the right direction.

I hadn't really been panicking about showing up at Aunt Tori's apartment until I was standing a few feet from the door. Before, it had all been a matter of reason. I was going to Aunt Tori's because I needed to go to Aunt Tori's in order to find my parents. Now, though, with Liz's warning that Uncle Simon wasn't amused by our antics, I was worried that he was just going to tell us to get back in the car and return back to Georgia. I didn't know what I would do, then. I could beg and plead all I wanted, but I could only go against him for so long before he took me back himself, or worse, decided that he wasn't going to take part in my parents' rescue.

I held my breath for a moment as we stood in front of the door. I half expected Liz to pop in to tell them that we were there, but she waited by my side, as if she could feel the inner conflict. "Simon might be mad," she said to me softly, "but Tori understands. She's been telling him this entire time that the three of you are able to handle yourselves. I want you to know that we all believed in you, but we still think that your presence isn't wise."

"Thanks," I answered. I lingered for a moment longer, and then raised my fist to knock on the door. I could hear the sound of someone coming to the door, and the sound of the little eyehole door sliding to the side. I forced a petty smile on my face, because I knew that they wouldn't be glad to see me. I could hear the locks being undone. Coe surprised me by reaching out to take a hold of my hand. He only squeezed it once and then he let go, but it was something.

The door swung open wide. Uncle Rick was standing on the other side, smiling at me. "Hey there, Whit," he said brightly. He had always been really nice, but he always seemed a little naïve. I think it was because Aunt Tori said he had anxiety, so she usually only told him what he needed to know, leaving out enough details that the truth was kind of blurred. But Uncle Rick didn't seem too bothered by it, which was probably why their relationship worked out so well. "We've all been waiting for you for a long time."

"Whitney?" I heard my name from within. It didn't take long for Uncle Simon to appear around the corner. He looked beyond mad. He glared at me and then Coe. "The three of you are in _so_ much trouble."

**Short chapter, but I really wanted to get something out to you guys. I intend to work on the next few chapters and will hopefully have them out in a reasonable time frame. As I mentioned before I have now finished four of my nine fanfictions (one of them being a Darkest Powers oneshot, so it doesn't really count. Bleh.) finished, and I'm trying to finish this one and one other Darkest Powers fanfic. Check back soon to see if there's an update.**

**Thanks for reading. You guys are awesome for sticking this out with me, even though it's nearly been a year since my last update. You're flat out fantastic. Please leave me a review. You guys know how much I love them. Peace (:**


	22. The Game of Risk

**fireicegirl16 – Lol, no, I'm not dead. Just lazy. In chapter 10: Disregarded, Derek thinks about the way that he and Chloe came together as a couple, and he glosses over their marriage. In chapter 13: Memories, Chloe thinks about her pregnancy with Whitney. They were both sort of chapter fluff, and since the real action is about to go down, I don't think there will be much more. But if you want a detailed wedding day from Chloe's POV, check out my oneshot **_**The Happiest Day**_**.**

**lindzabeth – Sorry! Yep, I have nine fanfictions, and I've recently finished four of them. I've already typed up the last chapter for the fifth, and am bidding my time until I can upload it. I plan to finish this one next, then chase the remaining three and introduce several others. "Whoe" is fantastic. I've heard someone refer to them as "Coeney," and I can't decide which one I like the best. I'm just ecstatic that they've got their own ship going on. Thank you so much for coming back to read, even after all of this time! (:**

**Inujuju712 – Ah, well, hello again. Haha. Watson's had his own problems with the supernaturals, but you're on to something. Not just his young wife, but also his young child. Well, not really. In my mind, Watson's back story is that he started doing genetic work for the Edison Group and quickly became paranoid. When his wife and child were killed in a car accident, in his crazed, paranoid state, he blamed the supernaturals, saying that they were all out to get him. That's why he hates them so much. And I guess it's okay to love the super villain, **_**sometimes**_** they are kind of loveable, in an odd, evil genius type of way.**

**BritPit – I like Whitney's POV the best, too! I'm not really sure why, but I can probably attribute it to the fact that she's sort of a pain to everyone else. You know, sarcastic and obnoxious and does whatever she wants. In short, she's my favorite type of heroine – she has a plan in mind and follows it through. (:**

**The Darkest Powers series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_22: The Game of Risk_

Liz

Once I saw Whitney, Zander, and Coe safely inside Tori's apartment, I jetted off to give the news to Chloe. I'd felt bad; I hadn't gone back to tell her that her kids had deviated from Simon's plans and were on their way to New York themselves. The moment I'd discovered that they'd abandoned Simon's house, I went looking for them. It was a good thing, too. If I hadn't shown up when I did, I wasn't sure if they would've made it away from the Pack in time.

That was another thing I was going to have to debate telling Chloe. Someone should tell her that her kids managed to get captured by the Pack, because she had the right to know as their mother. However, Derek would be beyond furious, and I hated to be the bearer of bad news. But it was probably better that it was me and not Simon, because Derek _could_ rip his brother apart, but he couldn't do anything to me.

When I arrived on the roof of the building Derek and Chloe were being kept in, I knew almost immediately that something was wrong. I couldn't figure it out, at first. It didn't _feel_ like there were any new charms around the place, which meant my point of entry was probably still clear, so it must've been something else. I didn't realize what it was that was bothering me until I reached the vent that I usually slipped down to get inside the building. Chloe's light was gone.

Fear hit me for a moment. I could only think of two reasons why a necromancer's light would cease to exist. Either they had died, or they had moved elsewhere. I hoped for the second as I crawled into the vent and made my way to the wire hanging in Chloe's room. I felt like I was being squeezed as I forced my way into the wire and through the bulb, falling onto Chloe's floor. Sure enough, she was missing.

I closed my eyes. It was always easier to find Chloe when she was summoning me, but there were moments where I could find her by focusing on her glow. Chloe's was the brightest I'd ever seen, so it was easier to find hers than it was to find Whitney's or Zander's. It only took me a little while to find it. She was still in the building. I let out a sigh of relief and returned to the walls.

I'd learned that the only rooms charmed against ghosts were the prisoner's cells. The rest of the building was perfectly fine, which was a relief. Once I got out into the hallway, I didn't have to wiggle through mere inches of space to get from one room to the other. I followed my sixth necromancer-light-seeing sense, trying to look like I was just roaming through the building. I didn't know if they had any necromancers employed, but I didn't want to risk it. I'd learned over the years that it was easier to just pretend like I was lost. If I appeared like I was on a mission, the other ghosts tended to get a little suspicious. I figured necromancers were probably the same.

I passed through a room that was full of people sitting in cubicles, each with their own computers. The room was virtually silent, only the clacking of the keys on a keyboard, and the occasional flip of paper. None of them looked up when I stepped into the room. I continued walking, each step in the right direction making Chloe's light seem brighter. I was so focused on her that I stepped through the walls a few times. Finally, I found her.

I was thoroughly shocked by what I saw. The room was huge, with five seats on the far wall. But the major feature was the two huge cages set in the center of the room. They were made of some kind of metal, something that I figured even Derek wouldn't be able to break down. Derek was in the cage on the left, and Chloe was sitting in the one to the right. Her back was to me, and Derek was facing me. They'd taken opposite ends of their cages, maybe so they could look at each other while they stayed locked up.

I eyed the lock as I approached Chloe. It was your regular padlock, it seemed, though it was larger than the others that I'd seen. It had one key, though. I looked at the guards surrounding the room. I might've been able to take them out one by one, since they couldn't shoot me, but I couldn't do that with Derek and Chloe in the room. I didn't want one of them to get hit with a bullet because I was showing off. If I could found out which guard had the keys, though, I might be able to find a way to get them and push them over to Chloe.

But first I stepped through the bars into Chloe's cell. Her eyes found me immediately. To her credit, she didn't jump, and the moment our gazes connected, she looked away. "Hi," I said, sitting down next to her. "We can do what Simon and I do. If you want to say yes, it's one tap. No is two taps, and maybe is three. And if you want to say something, just whisper really quietly," I said, my own voice dropping even though it didn't need to.

Chloe's eyes darted over to me. I could see the fear in her eyes. "You might be mad at this," I warned, "but Whitney and Zander didn't listen to Simon. I'm sure you expected that at some point." She tapped on the floor of her cage once, and I smiled. "So they decided to come up here to New York themselves. Whitney's determined to break you out of here herself." Chloe's eyes grew for a moment, and she furiously tapped twice.

I pulled at the toes of my socks. "Yeah, well, it wasn't like any of us able to stop her. Coe's completely smitten with her, I think. And I couldn't stop them, and Simon and Tori were already up here. But they're at Tori's apartment now, I saw them there myself." There was a flash of thanks in Chloe's eyes, but it only covered her stress for a short moment.

"But that's not the worst of it," I continued. Her face paled, and I wished that I could've thought of some way to say that a little better. "I didn't want to tell you, really, but I figured that it would be better if Derek heard it now instead of later, so he didn't want to tear Simon apart." Chloe's eyebrows drew together, and I took a deep breath. "Along the way, Whitney, Zander, and Coe were captured by the Pack. I managed to find them, and we broke out of there. According to Coe, the guys didn't seem to know what Whitney and Zander were. He said that they said that Whitney and Zander smelled strange because of their wolf-y scent, but they couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with them. I think they might be safe, at least for now. The Pack's so single-minded that they probably haven't even thought about the fact that a werewolf would fall in love with a different type of supernatural. But anyway, the important thing to remember is that they're all safe, with Simon. And I think he's going to try to make them stay there."

Chloe leaned forward a little bit. Her voice was low and urgent as she whispered. "You cannot let them come here. It turns out that Watson wants to use them in an experiment. He's trying to create super soldiers." She hid her moving lips in her fists. To anyone else, it would probably look like she was thinking hard about something, or was trying not to burst into tears.

"Super soldiers?" I echoed. Chloe tapped once. "I have to tell Simon and Tori," I told her. She tapped a single time again, and I stood up to leave. I'd delivered my message, and now time was of the essence. A part of me wanted to stay behind, though, to lend Chloe at least a little company. She was clearly distraught, and I for a moment, I felt glad that I wasn't her.

"Liz," she whispered. "Please keep them safe." I nodded, and then concentrated on going back to Tori's apartment. Within moments, Chloe and Derek were gone.

# # #

Whitney

There were only a few times where I'd seen Uncle Simon truly mad. Once was when I was a kid and I snuck into his studio apartment even though he'd told me not to. He'd come up the stairs when my parents realized that they hadn't heard from me in a little while, and they'd discovered me using one of my uncle's pristine sketch pads as my own mural. Another time was when he was visiting in Florida while presenting something at some art convention, and the morning of, Zander collided into him and poured hot coffee down his crisp white shirt. There was another time when Zander and I crashed a child-sized battery operated Jeep into the side of his car, effectively denting the driver's side door, and the time where Uncle Simon had gotten a cat and we'd let it outside, never to be seen again.

But none of those times compared to the way he was now. There was a vein in Uncle Simon's forehead that throbbed whenever he got really riled up, and his usually messily gelled spikes were limp, probably from him running his hand through his hair.

"Um, hi," I said, my fingers tightening on the strap of my duffel bag. It crossed over my chest, because I was a bit paranoid that someone was going to come up and try to take it from me while we were walking to Aunt Tori's apartment. It would be my luck to be mugged within fifteen minutes of being in New York City.

"That's all you can think to say to me?" Uncle Simon demanded. His eyes were burning with anger. His gaze slid over Zander, probably because he knew that my little brother was mostly innocent in this situation, and they settled on Coe. "And you!" He shouted. "I've let you stay in my house for three years, and all I asked of you was to keep Whitney from leaving my house. And you didn't even do that. Did you even _try_?"

Coe's face turned bright crimson. I hadn't thought about it that way. Uncle Simon had just effectively made Coe sound like a moocher who couldn't be depended on to do anything, and it was my fault. I stepped up and in between them. "Wait, that's not fair." I said.

Uncle Simon didn't even let me continue. "_Fair_? That's what you're going to defend him with? Fairness? It wasn't _fair_ that I told you to stay and you didn't. It isn't _fair_ that you can't seem to listen to me."

I swallowed hard. He was making me feel three inches tall. I remembered, briefly, all the times that I told dad I wanted to go live with Uncle Simon when we'd gotten into a fight, because my uncle seemed pretty chill. I'd rarely heard him raise his voice, and when he had, it was only because Zander and I had done something stupid, and even then, it hadn't been for long because we were just kids. But he was truly scaring me a little bit, now. I knew Uncle Simon wasn't like this the majority of the time, which was validated by the dazed look on Coe's face. "It's not fair," I said as calmly as I could muster, "because I made him do it."

"Whitney," Coe said from behind me. I elbowed him in the stomach. Sure, he'd come with me without fighting, but he knew that he couldn't stop me, and he'd settled for the lesser of two evils.

"I made him come with me," I said louder, stronger. "I told him that he couldn't stop me. I knew that he made a promise to you, Uncle Simon, which was stupid on your part." Already, I could see Uncle Simon's anger deflating. He wasn't really mad, I realized. He was just frustrated because he was trying to protect me, and I'd pushed him away. "I told him that I was going to leave whether he liked it or not, and he could either join me to make sure I stayed safe, or he could stay at the house and have no clue what was going on." It wasn't the exact truth, but it was close enough. Plus, I still owed Coe for swooping in and saving my life when we were fighting the Pack. With that, we were even. Or, at least, as close as I could manage at the moment.

Simon sighed heavily, and then looked away. "Look," he said, his voice already leagues calmer, "I'm sorry I got angry at you. But this entire time, I've been worrying about where you were. I _told_ you to stay at the house because it was safer for you there than it was here. I asked Coe to protect you because I knew you'd be unwilling to do it yourself. And then Liz came in and said that you'd gotten captured by the Pack." My face paled. I'd been hoping to keep that a secret for at least a little while. I guess it was my fault; I hadn't told Liz to keep it a secret. Even if I had, I wasn't sure if she would've done so. It wasn't hard to see that she was dedicated to my family, but my mother would always come first, as the only one to physically see her and befriend her in death.

"We didn't go looking for them." Zander said, opening his mouth for the first time since we arrived. I glanced back at him. Zander had changed his attitude towards Coe in the last few hours. I didn't know if it had to do with the fact that Coe had fought werewolves on my behalf, but that was my best guess. He had always been protective of me, and the only reason he had really seemed to dislike Coe was because they were wolves from different packs. But somehow, Coe had cinched the deal, and the differences didn't matter that much anymore. In all honesty, I was grateful for it. "They found us."

"And how did they do that?" Uncle Simon asked.

The front door behind us opened, and Aunt Tori stepped in. "How did who do what?" She asked, still looking down at the bags of groceries she had layered on her arm. She closed the door behind her with her foot, tucking her keys into her front pocket. When she looked up, she stopped for a moment, and then hurried to drop the groceries on the couch. She stepped up to me and enveloped me in a hug. She still smelled like Juicy Couture. She had been growing out her shoulder-length black hair, and her fingernails were carefully painted navy blue. "Whitney," she sighed with relief, squeezing me tight enough to cut off my air supply. She let go of me and held me out at arms' length. "What were you _thinking_?"

"Easy," Uncle Rick said calmly as Aunt Tori jumped from me to Zander. Zander towered over her, but she still managed to make him seem like he was just a little kid again. She reached out and ruffled his hair, like she always used to because it made him laugh. "Whitney's just about to tell us," he said.

"Well don't just stand there, sit down." She said, directing us to the couch. I noticed that she hadn't specifically said hello to Coe. Maybe she hadn't met him before, but I had the feeling that she knew exactly who he was. She scooped up the groceries and took them to the kitchen; I could hear her furiously putting everything in its rightful place as I took a seat on the couch with Zander on one side and Coe on the other. Aunt Tori returned in record time and sat in one of the armchairs while Uncle Rick leaned on the back of it. Uncle Simon stood against the wall, his arms crossed.

"Well," I said, clearing my throat. "I guess it starts with the fact that they're my parents, and I wasn't about to let someone else go get them. I'm supposed to take part in it." I raised my eyebrows at Uncle Simon, who pointedly didn't say anything. "Anyway, we decided to leave, and when Coe found out what I was planning, I basically forced him to come with us." He nudged me in the side, but I ignored him and plowed through. "We drove until we found this little motel in the middle of nowhere, so we stopped and got a room for the night. But it turned out that the Pack had gotten one of Coe's friends and… well, you know the Pack." I said. Coe sighed heavily, and I could tell that it hurt him just to think about it. "We cleaned up because we couldn't let the police get involved, and we held a quick funeral in the morning. But right after we finished packing up the car, we were ambushed by Pack members. They separated me and Zander from Coe, and we were there for a few hours without talking to anyone, and then Liz showed up. We got out of there as fast as we could and drove straight here." I told them. It was just the basics, but it hadn't taken me long to say. I felt like the last few days were almost insignificant, but they'd been among the worst few days of my life.

"That's it?" Uncle Rick said at a moment.

"Well, yeah," I answered, giving a shrug. "What did you think we did? It wasn't a road trip or anything. It was a mission." I immediately felt bad for saying it, because Uncle Rick was basically the last person in the world that deserved any snarky-ness from me. But he didn't say anything else, and instead started picking at the stitches on the top of Aunt Tori's chair.

We all sat in silence for a moment. Finally, I decided someone had to ask. "So, now that we're here, what are the plans for getting my mom and dad?"

Before anyone got the chance to answer me, Liz appeared by the door. She rushed over to me, so quickly that I was a little shocked when a burst of air didn't follow her. She was just so solid-looking that I kept expecting that she would run into the table or touch my hand. "Whitney," she said in a rush. Zander's eyes focused in on her. I was vaguely aware of Aunt Tori saying something in the background, followed quickly by Zander's voice. He must've told her to be quiet, because suddenly it was just Liz's voice as she spouted, "I went to talk to your mom. She's not too happy about the Pack, but I didn't really expect her to be. But that's not the point. You absolutely _cannot_ go after your parents. That's what Dr. Watson wants! He wants to take you two and study you, because you're the first werewolf hybrids that he's ever heard of. They want to study you because they want to make super soldiers!" As she was talking, I found myself wondering if ghosts needed to breathe.

"Super soldiers?" Zander asked, leaning forward. He looked like he was going to reach out for Liz's hand, but he stopped and drew away. "What do you mean, they want us?"

"Your genomes, I guess." Liz answered, giving a shrug. "I'm not too clear on the details, biology was never my forte. But that's what they want. They want to find the perfect mixture of supernatural to find out what would be the perfect soldier. As half-breeds that probably haven't surfaced before, you two are prime targets. And since there are two of you, and you're different genders, they can study the differences in your DNA breakdown." She said quickly. "But what you really need to take away from this is that your mom forbid you to go after her. Let Simon and Tori handle it."

I sat there, stunned. I always knew that Zander and I were weird, out of place, even in the supernatural world. It was just something that we had to deal with. But I honestly hadn't expected some crazed evil genius to want to _study_ me. That kind of stuff only happened in books and movies. Not in real life.

As my brain caught up with what Liz was saying, a heat grew over my cheeks. "I didn't come all of this way to be told that I can't do something by a _ghost_." I spat. Almost immediately, I felt guilty. Liz's face, full of life as she tried to explain something that could result in life or death, _my_ life or death, fell. Her eyes lowered to the ground. Her shoulders relaxed, and she scuffed the toes of her socks along the floor.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but Aunt Tori cut me off before I could even begin. "Whitney Alexandria Souza," she said sharply, and I winced at the use of my full name. It wasn't as scary as when dad used it, but it was close. "You don't talk to Liz that way, not after she saved your life."

"I'm sorry, Liz. I… I didn't mean it." I said. The apology stuck in my throat, not because she didn't deserve it, but because I was embarrassed to be giving it.

"Sure you did," Liz answered. She looked up to meet my gaze, and then gave a light shrug. A tiny smile just barely touched her lips, and I knew that she'd already forgiven me. A stray thought that the world should be full of more people like Liz crossed my mind as she continued, "And I get it. But it's what your mom said, and I don't want to disappoint her." She reached out like she was going to touch me. Her hand hovered over mine, and if I focused hard enough, it felt like she really was touching me. "I didn't get the choice of whether or not I died. Just really think about this, okay? You don't want to end up like me, do you?"

"No," I whispered softly. Zander draped an arm over my shoulders, pulling me into a side hug. I hadn't hugged Zander in years, it felt like. "But I have to do _something_." I looked past her, to Uncle Simon and Aunt Tori and Uncle Rick, who were all listening to the one-sided conversation like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I _have_ to do something," I told them. "And if you tell me I can't, I'll find a way myself."

Liz shook her head and sighed dramatically. I was vaguely aware that Zander was telling everyone what Liz had said about the super soldiers as I picked at my fingernails. They were growing too long again, really starting to look like wolfy claws. Coe reached over to touch my hand, telling me silently to stop it. He didn't pull away, and instead of shrugging away from his touch, I flipped my hand over. Our palms pressed together for a moment, which was long enough for my heart to beat a little harder, and then we simultaneously separated ourselves.

"We can't, Whitney. We can't risk you." Uncle Simon said. His eyes said that he was scared to death. I didn't know if it was of what dad would do to him if he found out that my uncle let me go through with it, or if he was worried that I would be like Liz had said – dead, and maybe ghostly. I figured that it was a combination of both.

"It's my life," I said. "Don't you think I get to decide whether or not I want to risk it?"

Aunt Tori and Uncle Simon looked at each other, and in that moment, I could see how they were related. According to the book mom and Uncle Simon had made, they didn't always know that they were siblings. I couldn't see how that was possible, given their facial semblances and the way they were always squawking at each other. I recognized that glance. It was the look between siblings, between brother and sister, asking what the other thought without words.

Finally, Uncle Simon sighed. Zander reached out and took my hand, squeezing tight. "Fine," he said. And then he pointed at me and said, "But your father better not kill me for this."

**I think there's only going to be a few more chapters left, which is assumed, I think, because it feels like they're getting to the end of their journey. Leave me your thoughts, I'd love to hear them.**

**I only edited about half of this, so if there's any mistakes, please forgive the lazy writer. Thank you so much for reading! Peace (:**


	23. Do We Really Want To Do This?

**lindzabeth - I would love to do another fanfic, solely on Coe and Whitney (Whoe, as you so adorably have dubbed them.) but it might have to be pushed back to the backburner. I currently have several other fanfics in the works that I wanted to upload, and after this is completed, I have three others that I need to work on. However, if the time is right and the inspiration in strong, I'll definitely write a Whoe fanfic. Thanks for the idea - I'll go right ahead and start thinking about a possibly plot! (;**

**Inujuju712 - Well, you'll be glad to know that there's another Watson POV section, and while it isn't lengthy, it's longer than his usual sections! (:**

**The Darkest Powers series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_23: Do We Really Want To Do This?_

Watson

A flight from Utah to New York was around six hours, but I told my pilot that I didn't care about flight paths or air space or anything else that the airlines were supposed to care about. This was a private jet, and if I wanted to get somewhere in just a few hours' time, that's what I expected. The pilot didn't tell me otherwise. I took a seat among my men, which were all idiots and should be fired upon our arrival. For several hours, I mulled over those decisions. As much as I hated moronic employees, I didn't care for interviewing more morons to see if they'd be fit enough to replace their predecessors.

It had still taken us several hours to land, and when I glanced at my watch, I still had about an hour before Mr. St. Cloud was set to arrive. Helena had sent me an email on her phone to tell me that his lackey, Vance, had shown up a few hours ago and informed her that our boss and benefactor would be there on his own time. Most of the time, these delays annoyed me. But this time, it worked in my favor. Besides, when I had the same amount of power as Mr. St. Cloud, I would take my own time, as well.

"You three," I said, picking out three of the guards at random. "Come with me. The rest of you will return to the laboratory as soon as you can. No stops for any reason at all." I eyed the three that stepped out of line to follow me. For a while, I'd tried to figure out which ones were the most competent, but I'd given up on that quickly. They were all either self-entitled supernaturals or lowly human guards, and they all looked vacant, for the most part. For a moment, I wished that Helena was with me, because she was the only one who was smart enough to know how I took my coffee. But no, she was better placed at the lab, watching Vance the way I'd ordered her to.

Helena had always been my favorite. Even as a young woman, she'd had that spark, that characteristic that had reminded me so much of myself at her age. She wanted, and she was willing to do anything to get it. My only true problem with her was that she had been soft when she'd first come under my wing, but I was slowly working it out of her. She once felt pity for those that we studied, but I'd explained their importance. How did she think we were going to protect ourselves from the supernaturals if we didn't understand them? Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, they always said. I was submersed in enemies every day, and when the time came, I was confident that I knew how to disarm them.

We climbed into our company car, a black SUV with darkly tinted windows. "Drive as fast as you can. I should've gotten there yesterday. A certain werewolf has made a grave mistake."

# # #

Derek

You can always tell that something has gone wrong when you can smell anger. Pure fury, it felt like, red and raw and hungry for revenge. Someone, it seemed, had done something wrong. My body tensed even though I wasn't currently being threatened; I was already on edge, and seeing Chloe trapped in a steel cage, in a place where I couldn't talk to her, only made it worse. I waited silently, the scent of sweat and frustration getting closer. The door burst open. The woman, Helena, and Vance straightened up, as if they expected any backup of ours to come through the front doors.

Dr. Watson stood in the doorway, three guards behind him. His face was flushed, and he wore travel like it was a clothing item. I let out a disappointed sigh. I had been hoping that my lie about Jacob Rigsby in Utah would keep him entertained for a lot longer, but like Liz had said, Watson was crazier than Davidoff had ever been, and sometimes the crazy ones are the most brilliant. His eyes were wide with anger, his teeth were clenched, as were his fists, and he nearly stomped over to me, like Whitney used to when she was a kid having a tantrum.

"You," Watson said, grabbing a hold of the bars of my cell. Chloe slyly slid away from him. It was meant to look casual, but I knew every move of hers like it was my own. She was uncomfortable being so close to him, and I didn't blame her. Watson turned to the nearest guard. "Get me the key." He demanded. The guards all looked to one another for a moment before one of them stepped forward, his hand going to his belt. The wolf in me rejoiced. It wanted to take this man that had threatened me, threatened my family, and tear him apart. My body was already tensing, preparing for a fight.

"Sir," Helena cut in, stepping closer. She was the only one in the room that didn't seem bothered by Watson and his outbursts. I wondered if she was just curiously brave, or if she had grown used to him. She certainly seemed like the kind of woman that could handle herself, and probably others, if they got out of line. She looked like a warrior. I'd have to keep my eye on her; it looked as if she knew how this operation worked better than most of the guards standing around the entrance of the room. "I don't think that would be wise, sir." She tilted her head ever so slightly, indicating towards Vance, who stood by the chairs like he had for the past few hours, looking amused.

Watson's hatred only seemed to grow when he saw Vance. It seemed like there was something that the doctor and I could agree upon. "You'll get it later," he spat at me. "The only reason I'm letting you live is that I need you as proof. But as soon as your life becomes unimportant, you're dead." He stepped away sharply from the cage. Helena stood still, closer to Vance than to Watson, but I could tell that she cared for the man who had just threatened for me, in a weird way. Like he was her mentor, and she couldn't turn her back on him. Perhaps I could use that to my needs later.

Watson took a deep breath, the red flush to his face already fading as he combed through his mustache with his fingers and brushed off the front of his lab coat, which was rumpled. I doubted that he'd traveled with it, since it would stick out, so he must've been in a rush to get here the moment he stepped foot in the building. Dad always said that I had a way of getting under people's skin. "Vance," he said, trying to gain some semblance of calm and collected. "How are you?"

His voice was obviously fake, but Vance decided to play along. It was like watching politicians at work. "Well, thank you. Helena here has told me that you've been traveling. I pray that you've found what you're looking for."

Watson looked a bit flustered. The glare he shot at Helena was almost imperceptible, but I caught it. I glanced at Chloe, and she raised her eyebrows. She'd seen it, too. A tiny smile touched her lips, and it almost felt like we were kids again, stuck in a situation that we didn't know how we'd get out of, observing a bunch of insane doctors while they pretended to observe us. "Unfortunately, it was a false lead. I'm sure you know how it is – you win some, you lose some. But don't worry, it will all be solved soon enough."

Vance looked like was debating pressing the matter. He clearly decided against it and pushed his hands into his pockets. He stepped closer to me, his eyes taking in the carefully crafted cage. I'd spent the last hour looking for any weak spots where metal had been welded to metal, but I hadn't seen any. Someone had really gone out of their way to make sure this place could hold me. I assumed that Chloe's was the same way. I hadn't been able to see all of hers, but what I had been seen was seamless work.

"How did you capture these two?" Vance asked, his eyes taking me in like I was an animal in a zoo. I certainly felt like one, only the animals in the zoo were better taken care of. I leaned forward without thinking about it. I was interested in hearing that answer, too. I had always been careful. I hadn't let the kids go out for any extracurricular activities, and their friends weren't allowed to come to our house very often if at all, in case they could be captured and interrogated for entrances and exits. I always gave the minimum of information needed for basic things like work and doctor files and anything else that required any information about me or my family. I'd used my computer skills and, with the help of Tori, covered our digital tracks pretty well. It would have taken a genius to uncover anything. We had been as unassuming as possible.

Watson was immediately at ease. I had the feeling that he was comfortable in any situation where he managed to show off. "I accessed the Genesis II files and decided the best course of action. Originally, I'd thought that they would be much more secretive with their whereabouts. And I was right to a fault. Someone had taken great care to erase any footprints left behind, but the most glaringly obvious mistake was that they didn't change their last name. It only took a quick international search to find the address of several Derek Souzas, but only one of them had a wife named Chloe. I figured that it was too perfect to be coincidence."

I turned to give Chloe a pointed glare. I'd wanted to change our last name and fly completely under the radar, like we belonged in the witness protection program. Chloe had argued with me. She'd said that she was already living like she was in the witness protection program, and she had wanted to be as honest about who she was as she could. The kids had been young then, so I wasn't even sure if they would remember it, but Chloe had finally won out. My last name held sentimental value to her, and who was I to take that away from her?

Now I wished that I would've put my foot down and told her that we were going to change it. If that had been what led Watson directly to us, the moment we got out of here, I was finding a way to change it permanently. I knew Tori would lend a hand in erasing the notification of change, as well. Even in the midst of the moment, Chloe found enough lightheartedness to wave a hand at me, as if it was nothing important. We both knew it was, though.

# # #

Whitney

Honestly, that had been the last thing I had expected. Uncle Simon had fought me tooth and nail at every other point on this trip. He wasn't _supposed_ to give in just that easily. For a moment, I was convinced that something was wrong, or that he was trying to trick me. I eyed him, wondering if he was going to try to tell me some fake plan, and then disappear with Aunt Tori in tow before I could figure it out. I'd have to keep tabs on him. I'd probably have to talk Zander and Coe into helping me do it, too, because as controlling as I was, I knew I couldn't watch all of them.

I was sure that I sat there and gaped like a fish out of water. Zander's hand had gone slack in mine. I could tell that he was just as shocked as I was. I wondered for a brief moment if Uncle Simon had been abducted by aliens and replaced by a carbon copy in the last twenty minutes, because this was a side of him that we'd never seen before. He had almost always been lenient, but this was something new altogether. As much of a fun-loving, restless, artistic uncle he was, he had never been so… _irresponsible_. That's what the word was. I knew all along that I was being stupid, because I was probably way out of my element, but I never would've believed that he would agree with me.

Right then, I realized that he might be trying to do one of those reverse psychology tricks on me. Maybe, because I was stubborn, he thought that if he just agreed with me, I would take a step back and look at the situation rationally and make the smarter decision. Or maybe he thought that just because he mandated something, even if it was something that I had originally agreed with, I would turn around and disagree just because I could.

To be honest, it almost worked.

"Wait," Coe said suddenly, surprising us all. Aunt Tori had looked pretty content with the decision, and Uncle Simon was looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. Zander was silent while he tried to process it. But it had been Coe that spoke up first, which registered in my brain as being weird. "Are we sure that we want to do this?"

"What?" I asked, looking over at him. I even scooted away a little bit without thinking about it, as if his doubt would rub off on me. "What do you mean, do we want to do this? Of course! That's what we came all the way here for."

Coe's eyes bore into mine. I realized right then that while I loved the color of his eyes – a million shades of blue – I had avoided looking at them for the most part. Probably because the longer we were together the easier it became for them to just melt me where I stood. My confidence wavered for a second. If Coe, a full-blooded werewolf who had almost single-handedly taken down two Pack members, was second-guessing this entire plan, maybe it _was_ a bad idea.

No. I looked away, focusing instead on Liz, who was perched on the other armchair that Uncle Simon had never taken a seat in. She had her head tilted, like we were just a movie that she was interested in seeing. I swallowed hard and pictured my mom and dad. I had no idea where they were, or what they were doing, or if they were safe. I didn't even know if they were alive, but that was not something that I wanted to think about. Immediately, my mind deviated elsewhere.

"What I mean to say is… super soldiers, Whitney. Do you want to be strapped down to a table and poked and prodded and treated like cattle?" He asked. I found myself wondering if they were really going to do that, and if they were, how did he know that? Was he as obsessed with movies as my mom was? "Because I…." His voice wavered, and he took a second. He seemed suddenly aware of our audience. And he didn't even know that Liz was watching him, too, completely absorbed in what he was saying. "I don't want that to happen to you."

The admission felt like more than just a friend telling a friend that he didn't want her to be captured and possibly killed or operated on or anything else the crazy scientists could decide to do to me. It sounded almost like he was begging me to rethink this, which was something that I had never expected. I had lied about forcing him to come with me. He hadn't needed to be forced. He came with me, even asked me if he could join the trip. Coe was not the type to doubt himself. He was the type that made a decision and stuck with it.

So it must've been a really messed up situation for _him_ to sit back and wonder if it was right or wrong.

"I don't want it to happen either," I replied. That hadn't been what I was planning on saying, but it was true enough. I glanced back at him, this time meeting his gaze. Instead of being embarrassed, or becoming soft like putty, my resolution hardened. I _wanted_ to do this, and even if I was scared to death to it, I _would_ complete my mission. I didn't know if I gave myself strength or if it was Coe, because the next words I said didn't make any sense, either. "Do you trust me?"

Coe didn't even pause. "Yes," he said. "I followed you all the way here, didn't I?"

I could feel myself smiling, even though I hadn't commanded my lips to do it. "Then will you follow me there?" I asked. I lowered my voice so that it was just a whisper, to the point where only werewolf ears would've been able to pick it up. Even though my two uncles and my aunt and a dead friend were sitting there, listening, it felt private.

Coe's eyes visibly searched mine, as if he was looking for any cracks in my armor. I hoped that he wouldn't find any. Dad always used to say that you were only as strong as your weakest link. At the time, I thought he was just being weird and all general-like, but I realized that what he said was important now. If I wanted to be strong, the entirety of me had to be strong. There was no room for doubts.

"Yes." He said. "Whitney, I think I'd follow you anywhere."

# # #

Zander kept eyeing us. We were all standing around Aunt Tori's kitchen table. It was covered in papers – maps printed out from Google Earth, the drawing that Liz had done back in Georgia, step-by-step plans that Uncle Simon had written, photocopies of everything, and a large atlas map that had a red circle around a chunk of what looked to be unoccupied land. Since Coe had made his promise to me (and it had been heartwarming and a little bit thrilling, because I realized in that moment that I _wanted_ him to come with me) I had tried to focus all of my attention on the plan.

But I couldn't focus with Zander staring at me. It was hard enough to ignore the fact that Coe stood right next to me, as if he was my protector and I was surrounded by enemies instead of family, but now Zander was looking like he was going to puke. His expression alone said that he wasn't sure what to make of me. That look hadn't crossed his face very often, because everyone knew that Whitney Souza was hard-headed, and once she made a decision, she stuck with it. There was no room for emotions, sometimes. Dad had told me that. Mom had just scoffed at him, but it was one of the first times that he and I had agreed on philosophies.

I pointedly looked down at the map. I was trying to take everything in, but I knew that I was going to be missing some parts. I hoped that Coe was taking mental notes, that way I could ask him later. "Liz says that she has pretty much pinpointed where the building is," Uncle Simon said, dotting a zoomed-in map. It looked like the building was in the middle of nowhere, just like the atlas had led me to believe. "It's also heavily guarded, so there's no chance that anyone but her can get close enough to really scan the building and find entry and exit points."

"I'll go now," Liz said. She promptly disappeared, and I relayed her departure.

Aunt Tori was sitting at the table, the only one. She was drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup. "This is more planning than we've ever done before." She said. She looked right at us when she said it, as if she wanted to impart knowledge on the younger generation. "We used to just run in like blind bats, and we turned out okay. So if we can figure this out, there will be next to no room for failure." She sounded like she was trying to comfort us, but I had the feeling that she was on edge. If she wasn't used to planning this stuff out, maybe going all out like this gave her the feeling that nothing was going to work out.

Now that the thought had crossed my mind, it was starting to bother me too. I blinked down at the papers, and then looked up at Uncle Simon. "I don't know if we should make our plan so ironclad."

He looked shocked. So did Zander, and Coe, and Uncle Rick. Aunt Tori was just watching me in the way that said she knew I was on to something. It was the same look that she used to give me when I was planning something mischievous as a child. "What do you mean?" Uncle Simon asked.

"I know it doesn't make much sense but… well, you can't plan for chaos, right? If they think we're going to go in after mom and dad, they're going to try and guess how many people there are, and they're going to base their plans off of that. They aren't going to know about Liz, and they probably won't know about Coe. But they might safely assume that me and Zander are going to be there, and you and Aunt Tori." I reached out and spread the papers apart. "So they're going to plan for our attack. If they're smart, they're going to have guards posted on every door. They're going to be monitoring the hallways. They're going to be watching my parents." I said. I took a moment, eyes scanning the maps. "But they won't plan for chaos. They'll expect us to be straightforward, in and out, mission completed. But they won't expect us to do something completely out of the ordinary," I said. I hoped it made sense. In my head, it made perfect sense.

"Look at you," Aunt Tori mused. "A general in the making, just like your dad."

A blush crawled up my cheeks. It used to get on my nerves when people compared me to my dad, but recently, I was glad to hear it. He was a great man, I was starting to understand, and it was a compliment. Dad was strong and smart and insufferable, he always did what was right and stood up for his family. I planned to be just like him. "I just think you might be right, Aunt Tori. It might be smart to just run in there without a plan."

Uncle Simon shook his head. "You're crazy," he said. It wasn't rude, and it wasn't a joke. It was just a statement, but it made me smile.

"Maybe. But dad always said that the insane ones were the brilliant ones."

**Short chapter, but I wanted to save the next bit for the next chapter. For some reason, I imagine that it will flow better.**

**Anywho, thanks so much for reading, and please leave me a review; I'd love to know what you thought. Peace (:**


	24. Mission Impossible, Initiated

**fireicegirl16 – Yay! Here's to hoping my action scenes don't suck! (:**

**Inujuju712 – I wasn't sure if "my dear Watson" was a Sherlock Holmes joke. If it was, you're on my list of new favorite people. If it wasn't, you're still awesome. (:**

**lindzabeth – You can't go wrong with chaos!**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_24: Mission Impossible, Initiated_

Chloe

When Liz reappeared in my cage, I hoped that she brought nothing but good news. Last time she showed up, she'd told me that Whitney and Zander had ignored Simon's orders to stay in Georgia, and that they were determined to come here to break us out themselves. I was already stressed over the fact that Simon and Tori were endangering themselves to save Derek and me, but the thought of my kids coming here and getting caught was like a knife in my stomach.

And to make matters worse, they'd been in the hands of the Pack for a little while. Liz had said that she and the kids felt like their identities as werewolf half-breeds were still hidden, which was a plus. I still hadn't found a way to relay the information to Derek. I couldn't tell him about the kids with Watson and Vance in the room, listening.

Liz sat down across from me, and I averted my gaze from her, instead pretending that I was intently focused on my cuticles. "So, I don't exactly have the best news." She said softly. I bit down hard on my lip. "We weren't able to get Whitney and Zander to back down from their plans to break you out, even after we told them about the super soldiers bit. They won't listen to us. And we sort of… caved. If we didn't, they would've found a way to come out here themselves."

I tapped on my knee once in agreement. Whitney _would_ find a way, because that was the way she was. And Zander, who had always been more like me, would follow in her footsteps if he believed it was the right thing to do. Liz gave me a slight smile, her eyes filled with pity. "So they're coming here to break you out." I tapped twice, _no_, and she shook her head. "It's already decided, and you know your own kids better than I do." With a sigh, I tapped once. _Yes, Whitney is a handful._ "I just came here to tell you, because I knew that was the right thing to do. And because I have a message from Tori: she said to evoke your favor. Do you know what that means?"

For a moment, my stomach dropped, the way it did on the roller coasters I'd ridden when Derek once took me to a theme park before we got married. I tapped once. I had told Tori and the others about my involvement with a demi-demon, Diriel, back when the Edison Group captured me. She'd been captured and metaphorically chained the building. They'd been using her as an energy source. We'd made a deal. If I freed her from the Edison Group, she would help me escape the building. After I'd unchained her, the building started to crumble. But before she could make good on her end of the deal, a demon king came into the picture to take her away, and she still owed me a favor.

I hadn't thought about Diriel for a long time. Her presence was what brought other minor demons that had taken a hold of the dead bodies in the building, twisting their limbs out of shape. One of them even licked my blood. I still had nightmares about that, and I wasn't exactly looking to experience it again anytime soon.

But Liz and Tori were right. This escape seemed more impossible than the one Diriel had promised to assist me in all those years ago. And this time, I had a lot more to lose.

Liz reached out, as if she was going to put a reassuring hand over mine, but then she stopped and gave me another sorrowful smile. "I really am sorry that I couldn't talk them into staying at the apartment, but none of us could. And Whitney's just like Derek, I swear. She's nearly taken a hold of the planning by herself."

I tapped once, to tell her that it was okay, and then she was gone.

# # #

Whitney

I had never been so nervous in my entire life. Uncle Simon hadn't been a big fan of my idea to just go with it, like he and Aunt Tori and my parents did back in old days. In fact, he was completely against it. Aunt Tori was on the fence, and Uncle Rick stayed out of it, like he wasn't sure he had the right to say anything since he wasn't coming with us. But Coe and Zander backed me up, both literally and figuratively. Coe hadn't left my side since he told me that he would follow me anywhere, and Zander lingered in a comfortable five foot radius, ready to jump in front of me for any reason at all.

The building was bigger than I imagined it would be. In fact, it was huge. And Uncle Simon was right about the heavy amount of guards. Just in the fifteen minutes that we'd been watching, we'd seen three patrols, giving us only a five minute window between the time one group left and the other arrived. Uncle Simon and Aunt Tori gave each other a long glance, and then they both looked at me. Gooseflesh broke out over my skin as I waited for what they were going to say.

"Do you see Liz?" Aunt Tori asked.

I blinked. That had been one of the last things I'd expected her to say. "No, she isn't back yet. She's planning our route." I said. Aunt Tori already knew that. Liz had been the one that found the weakest point of access – the second story balcony, which we could reach if we climbed up the maintenance ladder about two feet away. From there, we'd enter the building, and follow Liz's directions. I touched the marker in my pocket. Coe and I were going in first, leaving Zander with Aunt Tori and Uncle Simon, since he was the only other person that could see and hear Liz. Still, the marker was our backup plan, and I was going to draw lines on the walls whenever we had to change direction, effectively making a breadcrumb trail. It was both smart and stupid, but hopefully the Edison Group wouldn't notice it on the walls the way Zander would.

"You'll be fine. You're smart." Aunt Tori put a light hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at her, giving her a slight smile even though I didn't want to smile. I was too busy being stressed. When I said that they would never plan for chaos, therefore we would make chaos, I felt like it was the best course of action. But now, I wondered how stupid I was being by thinking that I could just run in there and save my parents.

As if she was sensing my stress, Aunt Tori leaned in. "Just find your parents, and tell your mom to see if she can evoke her favor." That was what this entire plan was riding on; me finding my mother, and her "evoking her favor." I'd asked what that meant, and so did Zander, but they all pretended not to hear and continued to mark the pages that had laid on the table in front of us.

Now, I wondered if they would tell me. "Her favor?" I asked, just barely refraining from crossing my fingers in hope that she'd spill whatever secrets she was hiding.

"She'll know. We don't have time to go into the specifics." She replied, and then she slid away and back to Uncle Simon's side. Zander leaned in, taking up the space she left between us. I didn't say anything, and neither did he, as we stared at the two of them.

Finally, he whispered, "They still won't tell you?"

"No. It worries me." I said back.

Zander draped his arm over my shoulder and gave me a quick hug. I knew that he hated the idea of being separated as much as I did. The two of us had come all this way to find our parents, and it had never occurred to me that we wouldn't be doing it together. He and Aunt Tori and Uncle Simon would follow Liz and my marks. Hopefully, we wouldn't lead them into danger. I'd wanted all of us to go in together, but if we were captured, there was no one coming after us. If there were two separate groups, then if one was captured, we'd know that there was another group out there that would find us.

"We'll be fine." He promised, giving me a smile despite the fact that this entire thing was based off of luck and pure determination.

"So you say," I replied, and he knocked his shoulder into mine. I opened my mouth to say something else, but we all fell silent as a group of guards rounded the corner. I watched them carefully, at least until something else caught my attention. Standing on the balcony was the ghostly figure of Liz, waving her hand back and forth to catch my attention.

Zander and I looked at each other. He nudged Aunt Tori, and she nudged Uncle Simon, and Coe and I waved to say that we were leaving. The guards went around the corner, and Coe stood up first, reaching down to grab a hold of my hand and haul me to my feet.

Fear burst from me, enveloping me, and I paused just long enough to give Zander a hug. He accepted it for a moment, and then shoved me away and out towards the building, urging me to go before the next patrol came around this side of the building. That moment of running across that empty expanse of land between the forest and the ladder was the most frightful time in my life, greater than finding out my parents had been kidnapped, or leading a van and its inhabitants to their deaths, or breaking out of a Pack building.

Coe was a few steps in front of me, his fingers tight on mine as he pulled me after him. I struggled to keep up, which was something new to me. Thanks to my werewolf ancestry, my P.E. classes had never given me trouble, and as a kid I was proud to be one of the fastest in the class. The only other full-blooded werewolf that I'd raced against was my father, and in his age we were more closely matched. But Coe was a different story, and I was worried that if he didn't slow down, I'd fall flat on my face.

Luckily, we reached the ladder before I could fall down. We had at least four minutes, and in that time the two of us had to climb up the ladder and hop the two feet to the balcony before the patrol came around the corner. We couldn't hang from the ladder unnoticed, so we'd either have to make it inside or back to the forest.

"Go," Coe whispered to me, motioning for me to climb up first. I grabbed a hold of the rungs and quickly made my way up. For a moment, I'd been worried that the ladder wouldn't be solid, but it was. My hands, though, were a bit clammy, and my fingers ached from gripping the rungs by the time I was halfway up. I heard Coe making his way up behind me.

Relief washed through me. We were making good time. I took another few steps, and that's when I slipped. My foot fell off the rung, my fingers tightened around the one I was holding, and my body slammed against the ladder. Behind me, Coe cursed. Shock washed through my system as the entire ladder shook from the impact. My knees ached from where they'd slammed into one of the rungs, and one of my ankles throbbed. A hand touched my foot, urging me to continue forward, and I almost jerked away before realizing that it was just Coe.

"Move, Whitney!" He called up, his voice a strangled whisper. With a nod, I scrabbled to find footing, and then we were moving again. It didn't take me long to figure out that my knees would be fine, but my ankle was worse than just a bruise. It wasn't broken, though, and it wasn't sprained. I'd probably just twisted it. My own medical diagnosis didn't look any better when I reached the second floor balcony.

The balcony was edged in black fencing. There was a lip that stuck out about half a foot that I'd have to jump to or I'd have to climb higher and jump down over the fence. The latter would probably be more dangerous, so I chose the former. With a deep breath, I edged to the side of the ladder, holding onto the vertical pole instead of the rungs. With my hurt ankle still on the ladder, I reached with my other leg for the lip of the balcony.

I'd never really been scared of heights before, but the idea that I would fall to the ground, broken and waiting to be caught by the Edison Group, made the distance seem like it was so much more. "You can do it," Coe said from behind me. He'd climbed a little higher, his body becoming like a safety net. His hand rested on my lower back as he balanced just a little bit behind me. "Just wait until you've got a good footing. Take your time."

"We've only got a minute left!" I hissed. We couldn't be seen at all. If any of the patrols were even _suspicious_, our element of surprise might be gone.

"You're fine," he whispered fiercely. I turned to look at him, meeting his blue gaze, and for a moment, I wanted to wrap my arms around him. I wanted to touch his face and see if the shadow that touched his jaw really was as scruffy as it looked. My gaze dropped to his lips, and for a moment I fantasized about him leaning in to kiss me. But the moment was gone just as quickly as it came. Embarrassment flushed on my cheeks and I turned away from him, trying to push the thought of him touching me out of my head as my toes touched the balcony.

Leaning out a little farther, I managed to get my foot squarely on the balcony. Taking a deep breath, I looked to Liz, who nodded at me, and then I leapt. My ankle complained as my hands wrapped around the top of the fence. My knees knocked into it again, but I was safely on the edge. I smiled up at Liz, wishing that she could reach out and help me get over, but I'd already done one of the harder parts.

I threw one leg over the fence and teetered at the top for a minute before reaching the other side. I glanced behind me in time to see Coe reach for the edge. I ran to the other side of the balcony and looked down at the corner of the building. It had taken me far too long to get from the ladder to the balcony, and my ungraceful slip was a blip on our itinerary. Sure enough, I saw the patrol coming around the corner. I glanced back, my voice caught in my throat, trying to find a way to warn Coe that he needed to move _now._ But he was already leaping across the expanse. As quickly as I could blink, he was over the fence.

Liz clapped her hands together. I reached out and grabbed a hold of Coe's arm, pausing to look into the forest to see if I could catch a glimpse of Zander and the others, before following my ghostly friend to the door. She'd held it open with a tiny block of wood wedged in the doorjamb. She slipped inside, glancing back and forth down the hallway, before motioning for us to run in.

Coe and I looked at each other. He gave me a slight smile and squeezed my hand. "Ladies first," he whispered.

I smiled back and slipped into the building.

# # #

Simon

I wasn't so sure about this. Tori had really opened a can of worms when she mentioned the fact that we used to just run in without an ironclad plan. The problem was, we'd always had a plan, so I thought. _Derek_ had always had a plan. I thought about having Liz go to tell Chloe and Derek about our plans, so they could take part, but Liz had said that Derek and Chloe had been moved, and that there was no way for them to get out of the cages they'd been locked in.

Yes, cages. I'd been furious, but I was sure that Whitney's eyes turned red as she took it in. She looked like she was about to blow a gasket before Coe put a hand on her arm, stopping her from saying something that she might end up regretting. Or, at least, before she could make a promise saying that she would get revenge, because Whitney would keep a promise she made to herself.

So we were technically on our own. We all watched in silence as Whitney and Coe made a break for the ladder. We all winced when she slipped, and we all held our breath when they jumped from the ladder to the balcony. According to Liz, it was the best point of access, but it was easy for her to make. And it was easier for the kids to make than it was for me and Tori, who were, unfortunately, in the middle-aged range, though Tori would never admit to it.

We hunkered down and waited. Liz was supposed to come back within the hour – twenty patrols – but if she didn't, we'd be on our own, following the marks Whitney was supposed to leave on the walls. I hoped that Liz would come back sooner once Whitney and Coe were in a safe spot. I hoped that this plan of ours wasn't as stupid as I imagined it would be.

I hoped, for the life of me, that it worked.

**Short chapter this time, and it's been a long time coming. Sorry about the extensive wait. I think that this might be one of the last chapters (which might be kind of obvious, but I like to state the obvious.)**

**I skimmed it for grammatical/spelling errors, but I may not have caught them all, so please forgive any mistakes you see. Thanks for reading, and leave me a review! Peace (:**


	25. Diversion

**fireicegirl16 – Lol, not necessarily bad, but you're not going to find it from me, haha! I like to write up to T only, as a rule to myself. I'm glad you liked the action! I like action-packed stories, and even better when it's still all wrapped up in the ending!**

**Inujuju712 – Aww yeah! I love Sherlock Holmes. (That includes the novels [unfortunately, I haven't read much of them], the movies, and the BBC television show. Can't get enough of Sherlock and John!**

**Lucky Ariana Wolf – To be honest, I'm not a big fan of changing POV's either, but I've sort of decided that my fanfictions are ways of experimentation, and decided to give it a shot. It's actually been kind of nice, weaving a tale with enough dramatic irony to keep the ball rolling. Thanks so much! I would love to one day publish a book, and knowing that it sounds book-like boosts my spirits. Thanks! (:**

**Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_25: Diversion_

Whitney

I'd tried to memorize the map before we came in here, but it was a lot harder to actually navigate the halls than it was to trace our path on a piece of paper. I knew it wasn't because I'd failed to really try, because if I closed my eyes, I could still picture all of it. It was just harder, with real walls and real hallways and real threats. I should've known that nothing would prepare me for this, not hours of planning, not my previous training, not the dream I'd had of this moment last night.

"This way," Liz whispered, slipping down the hallway and around the corner. I uncapped the marker, yellow, as close to the white walls as we could get, and crouched down to mark closer to the floorboards, hoping it would draw less attention that way. Coe hovered behind me. I wasn't even touching him, but I could tell that his body was tense. His shadow cast over my shoulder from the overhead lights, and I could feel his gaze on my back.

Trying my best to ignore him, I took off after Liz, peering into doorways as we passed, freezing in the occasional blind spot, usually underneath the camera, when we needed to. I trusted Liz completely. If she said she knew where my parents were, then who was I to doubt her? But I couldn't help but look for them, or for a clue to where they were, myself. So far, all the doors were darkened, and I couldn't really catch a glimpse of what was inside. My mind supplied images of scientific equipment, prepared to slice and dice unwilling supernaturals.

I gulped in air, suddenly aware of the pain in my side. For all the training I'd done, I should've been in better shape. But my heart was pounding and I was psyching myself out, picturing evils that weren't necessarily there. That had to be why I was so out of breath. It couldn't be because I'd gotten a little lax on my training schedule.

Liz paused at the end of the hall. If she were still alive, I would've collided into her. As it was, my body went halfway through hers. Liz just calmly stepped away, as if it didn't bother her. But a chill went over me, raising gooseflesh. Liz looked as clear as day, and sometimes I kind of forgot that she wasn't on the same physical plane as me. And there was something so inherently wrong about phasing _through_ someone, friend or not.

Liz stepped carefully into the hall, on her tiptoes. Her footsteps wouldn't have made a sound to anyone but me, but she still did it anyway. It made me smile, sort of, in a sad way. Liz should've been alive, like my parents, not a ghost leading an attack because she was virtually unnoticeable. She glanced back at me, long blonde hair whipping around her like a halo, her blue eyes bright. Maybe she was dead, and maybe she should've still been alive, but Liz obviously hadn't let it hold her back. She seemed more alive than some living people I'd met.

"Down here," Liz said in a whisper, "is the camera room. As far as I can tell, they have one person right now, but the other should be close by. The break room's forever away." She pointed in a far off direction and added, "You remember what Simon told you to do, right?"

"Right," I whispered. Uncle Simon wanted me to get in and disable the camera system without setting off any alarms. We could always knock the guards out, but when they came around, it would be obvious that they'd had a break in, and then they'd be able to find us anywhere. No, we needed to do it the smart way. I touched my pocket to make sure the USB drive was still in place. Aunt Tori had been a hacker back in the day, and she knew the ins and outs of a computer like the back of her hand. She'd given me the drive, which only contained one file: a virus that would shut down the systems momentarily, then loop old camera feed back through, so it seemed like another calm day.

Did I ever mention that Aunt Tori was a genius?

"How long has it been?" Liz asked. She was supposed to be back on the balcony an hour after our departure. If she wasn't back to lead Zander to their point (creating a diversion on the other side of the building; more dangerous than I would've liked) they were to assume that something had gone wrong, and that Coe and I had been found out.

I asked the question out loud, and Coe glanced at his watch. "Twenty-three minutes," he answered. I blinked in shock. It hadn't seemed like twenty minutes since we'd broken in, but it had to be, because his watch couldn't be wrong, not at a time like this. It must've been the slow-going, slipping past doors, pausing in the hallway like deer caught in headlights. Luckily, we hadn't run into anybody. Liz said that this area of the building was relatively empty. But that would all change when Coe and I caught sight of them on the camera. When Zander gave the signal, I was supposed to pull the fire alarm, and then head south. Liz said that she would find me there, and that she'd lead me to my parents. Zander, Uncle Simon, and Aunt Tori were supposed to make their way to room where they were being held using the marks I'd made on the walls.

It wasn't foolproof, and it wasn't nearly as well planned as I'd like it to be, but that was the bargain that we'd made. We had no idea how many people were in building, or if they had a plan for if something like this ever happened. Maybe they'd all assume that it was a drill, and they'd leave in an orderly fashion. Or maybe they'd figure out that we were up to something, and they'd take up arms against us instead. It was a crapshoot. I wasn't old enough to gamble yet, but if it felt like this, I didn't see what people saw in it.

"Take the guard out," Liz indicated to the door. "I'll be back, I promise." She gave me a smile, and then she headed back the way we'd come. I watched after her for a second, wondering what it would look like to anyone else who had maybe caught an accidental glimpse of her, the way people do in those horror stories. Would she look evil, a haunting ghost, set out to right her wrongs? Or would she look like an innocent friend, who had left behind her past and had instead focused on her future? A tiny smile made its way to my lips. But it didn't linger long, because Coe reached out and took a hold of my wrist.

His eyes were bright blue, lit up with some sort of inner fire. Dad's eyes kind of looked like that, all bright and unearthly, whenever he was getting close to the Change. He hadn't talked much about it, and on those nights my parents locked themselves in their room, so dad could Change with mom. I'd only caught a couple of glimpses of him in his wolf form, sleek black, with eyes as bright as the grass in the spring. Zander and I had been close enough to see him and get used to him in that body, but he didn't linger around. We'd never seen him Change, which was something that my mother told Zander and me was extremely private. I didn't know if it was like that for other werewolves or just my dad, but I never bothered to clarify.

"Are you ready?" His voice was low and soothing, with enough deep timbre to it that some distant, girly, boy-crazy part of me found it positively bone-melting. But that was just a very small slice of my female mind, and it didn't have much control. I told myself that it was just because Coe was one of the few guys that I actually considered my friend, and not because I really liked him.

"No," I whispered back. My eyes scanned for the cameras. They moved back and forth, Liz said, taking in the hallway, and she'd studied the area enough that she knew where the blind spots were. They were thin little strips of the hallway, and at each one, Coe and I were pressed together to fit in the tiny space. Liz had left us in the biggest blind spot of all, she said, which so happened to be a few feet from the camera room door. "But I guess it doesn't really matter, right?"

Coe smiled at me, the kind of smile that wasn't really happy. But he didn't say anything else as we eyed the nearby camera, following its red light. We had to wait for it to turn away from us, and then we could make a break for the door. We watched it a few times, just to make sure. Coe reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around mine, long and warm and slightly calloused. The red eye turned away, and Coe leapt forward, dragging me behind him.

The door opened with a slight squeak. Liz had been right about there only being one guard in the room. He had his back to us, his eyes on a hundred screens, running back and forth. Even if we hadn't been fully in the blind spots on our way here, they probably wouldn't have really noticed, there were so many screens. I blinked a few times, my mind immediately supplying the image from one of the Batman movies, where all those blue screens showed everyone in Gotham.

"Hey, Brian," the guard said. "You brought me back a coffee, right?" He started to turn around in his chair. My muscles locked up, and I was suddenly very afraid. I'd never done anything like this before. I hadn't looked someone in the eye, knowing that I was about to attack them when they might've been defenseless. Sure, I'd led those guys in the van over the cliff, and yeah, I'd fought with a few Pack members. But those times had been different. The van was actively chasing me when I was just trying to get away from home, and the Pack members had attacked me first. Self-defense, both of them.

But not this time, I realized with a jolt. The guard in front of me might not have been as innocent as a civilian on the street. Maybe he'd taken part in the torturing of supernaturals, or brought them in himself. Maybe he'd even killed someone (I gulped, the way I had, inadvertently.) But he hadn't done anything to _me_.

It was a good thing I wasn't alone, I thought, because as soon as the chair started to turn and I froze up, a necromancer-werewolf statue, Coe jumped forward. His hands grabbed the back of the chair and he swung it around, pulling it away from the monitors and, I realized, the alarm that would sound an invasion. The guard jumped up, reaching for the belt around his waist. I thought I saw a gun, but before I could even warn Coe, he'd slapped the guard's hands hard enough to break them, I was sure. The guard yelped with pain and called out for his partner, Brian, but when he realized that help wasn't just around the corner, he turned back to Coe with a new ferocity.

I wasn't sure if the guard was a supernatural. Liz had said that both humans and supernaturals worked side-by-side in the Edison Group, though they leaned heavily on supernatural presence, as far as she knew. The guard could've been anything. He was certainly holding his own against a slightly experienced not-quite-yet-turned full-blooded werewolf. I couldn't help but be impressed.

Coe and the guard slammed into the wall, and the guard reached out for the nearest thing – the fire alarm. He couldn't pull that. _I_ had to pull that, when the time was right. My body unfroze and I slid forward, blocking the alarm with my body. My hand made a fist on its own accord, but that didn't really matter, because Coe had his hands (big palms, long fingers, slightly calloused, my mind chanted like a broken record) around the guard's throat. He pressed down on the guy's windpipe with his thumbs, and my heart thudded harder.

I waited for a few seconds, but Coe made no move to let up. "Hey," I said, my own voice surprising me. "Hey, you won. You can let go." My voice took on a more frantic tone. My father had always said that once a werewolf lets loose that more primal side of him, the consequences could be disastrous if he wasn't kept in check. As much as our plan depended on removing the guard from the equation, I couldn't let Coe _kill _him.

I'd just opened my mouth to say something else when the guard's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped against the wall. His face had turned purple, I realized, but he hadn't necessarily looked anywhere close to death. Coe released his hold almost immediately. We stared down at the guard for a moment, then looked at each other. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Coe beat me to it.

"I wasn't going to kill him," he said calmly, his voice eerily level despite what he'd just done. His eyes were focused on the guard. He glanced up at me, then, his eyes still burning like fire, the color of sharp ice. "You didn't think I was going to kill him, did you?"

I worked my jaw. It was obvious that he was hoping I would say no without any hesitation, but that wouldn't have been the truth, would it? Coe frowned at my silence, then stepped away from the guard, and me. "Come on, we've got to download the virus, and be ready to initiate it and pull the alarm. I'll watch the guard and be on the lookout for his partner."

Without saying a word, I took the guard's chair, still warm from his body, and searched for the USB jack. Finally, I found it. Slipping in the drive, I watched the system try to read it. WARNING,it read in bright green letters. A little triangle with an exclamation point popped up beside it. THIS DEVICE MAY HAVE VICIOUS HARDWARE. DOWNLOAD?

I clicked yes and glanced at the clock on the wall. It said that we had thirty minutes left until the hour was up. Liz should've already gotten back to Zander and the others by now, and they probably should've already been up the ladder and onto the balcony. While the virus downloaded onto the computer, its percentage slowly growing higher with little tick marks, I scanned the computer screens for a glimpse of my brother, aunt, or uncle. A part of me hoped that I'd find one with my parents, just so I could look at it for a moment.

Five minutes passed before I saw them. I held my breath and reached out to touch the screen, my fingers brushing over Zander's pixelated face. They were running down a hallway, pausing in all of the blind spots before bursting forward to the next one, the way Coe and I had done earlier, but they did so with less hesitation. Soon, they should be in the cells, where Liz said that they housed only a few supernaturals as test subjects. To her knowledge, there weren't any more. They planned to release them, and hoped that they'd help cause enough of a distraction. If they didn't, they'd go to the next plan: literally starting a fire in one of the science rooms. It was Plan B because we wanted to get those other tortured supernaturals out of there. We doubted they deserved it much more than my own parents did.

"Good luck," I whispered, then closed my eyes and wished with everything I had.

# # #

Watson

"One more hour until Mr. St. Cloud is due to arrive, sir," Helena said quietly to me. I nodded to myself. I wished that he had shown up earlier, instead of sending Vance in his steed, but it was only one more hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand, six hundred seconds.

I glanced at Vance, then at my prisoners. Chloe Souza, with her hair not quite clean despite the fact that she'd been taken to shower, as Helena had told me, should've looked weak and helpless inside her steel cage. Neither she nor her werewolf husband would be able to break out of them. I'd had them commissioned myself, werewolf-tested, nearly indestructible.

And despite all of this, she didn't look as broken as I wanted her to be. I stepped close to her cage, ignoring the low growl of her animal of a husband. "Why, my dear Chloe, do you look like you know something I don't?"

# # #

Zander

Liz had come back for us. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw her. I should've known that she wouldn't let us down. Sure, she hadn't been around for the first sixteen years of my life, but what did that matter? My family obviously trusted her, and I'd seen in Whitney's eyes that she'd trusted her, too. If my sister trusted her, that was the ultimate seal of approval. Whitney was even worse than our dad when it came to judging people.

Which reminded me. I'd seen the way that she'd looked at Coe. She trusted him. And maybe my wolf wasn't too fond of him – really, was it my fault that I didn't really like the guy? – but Whitney trusted him enough to run into a building alone with him (save for Liz, who'd leave them alone together eventually.) I closed my eyes for a moment and thought about my sister, strong and unshakeable most of the time. She was a tornado of anger and desperation and strength and purpose. If I ever had to choose a side, it would be hers, hands down.

And even though her episodes freaked me out, I thought that right now would be a really good time to let one of them go.

When I opened my eyes, Liz was standing on the balcony, waving for us. We stayed hunkered down for another few minutes until a patrol passed, and then we ran towards the ladder. Aunt Tori went up first, and I quickly followed, with Uncle Simon bringing up the rear. The ladder jolted under our combined weight, but it didn't groan, which I was thankful for. Unlike my sister, heights tended to scare me. There really was no good reason for something that couldn't fly to be up that high.

I pushed the thought out of my mind just in time to see Aunt Tori jump for the balcony and scramble to keep her hold. For a middle-aged woman (she would never admit to that) she was surprisingly agile. As I watched, I caught sight of her fingers sparking blue, a telltale sign that she was either feeling extreme emotional turmoil, or she felt threatened. Obviously, she was more stressed than she'd let on.

I took a deep breath and balanced on the ladder for a second, arms wrapped around both vertical bars and hands locked. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and searched for the lip of the balcony with my foot. The toe of my sneaker pressed down on it. I tested it out a few times, aware of the fact that my entire body was shaking with adrenaline. When I opened my eyes, I wasted no time thinking about the ground below, or how much it would hurt if I hit the ground from this height. Instead, I took the fence in my sights and leapt. My fingers wrapped around the fencing, and my foot nearly slipped on the lip. I wasn't going to do the same thing Whitney had, slipping in the worst possible moment. I struggled for a minute to keep my balance, slicing my finger open on a sharp point of the fence. Sucking in a breath to cover the hiss of pain, I swung my legs over and nearly tumbled into Aunt Tori.

Silently, she reached for my hand to inspect my wound while Uncle Simon attempted the jump. Like a true aunt, she always had anything that we'd ever need. She reached into her back pocket while I stuck my finger in my mouth, ignoring the taste of grime and dirt and coppery blood. She pulled out a Band-Aid, of all things, wrapped it quickly around my finger, and shoved the trash back into her pocket. She gave me a wink and a smile, then turned in time to see Uncle Simon climb over the fence. The three of us had made better time than Whitney and Coe.

Liz beckoned us forward. She stuck her head in the hallway and slipped into the building. I followed dutifully. I glanced to the right, which was the direction Whitney and Coe were supposed to have taken. I thought I caught a glimpse of yellow on the wall, just a few inches above the floorboards. But I didn't get a chance to look further, because Liz broke left.

In theory, we didn't have to worry about the cameras, because Whitney and Coe were supposed to have knocked out the guards and started downloading the virus Aunt Tori had cooked up. But we decided to be more cautious, and ran for the blind spots. We didn't watch the camera to get its pattern, though, like I imagined Coe and Whitney had done, and instead had made a break for it whenever the cameras weren't pointed our way.

"Whitney and Coe had to go pretty far into the building. They're only a few hallways from where your parents are being kept," she said softly to me. "So we don't have to go too far. Just a couple more corners, and down some stairs, and we'll be in the cells." She whispered. "There are exactly six supernaturals locked up down there, one in each of the first three doors on either side. There should be at least two guards down there, maybe more. It seems like your parents are of the highest priority, so most of the guards are with them."

Liz took us around the corner and peered through the door and down the stairs. She turned back around within a second, her eyes wide. Obviously, someone was coming. We ducked into the nearest room, nearly tripping over each other to get there. I just barely managed to grab the knob of the door and twist it, slowing down the closing mechanism so it closed without a sound. Right then, the stairwell door opened. We'd all dived to the side of the door, so if the person passed us and decided to look in the window, they probably wouldn't have seen us. Aunt Tori stood right behind me, her breath warm on the back of my neck, her fingers sparking blue.

I held my breath, looking over the room so I didn't have to fight the urge to plaster my face against the window, waiting impatiently. The room was smaller than I would've thought, and it was dark, but my eyes adjusted quickly enough. The inside looked like a true science lab, with all sorts of equipment. Some of it I recognized from high school chemistry, but I didn't know what most of it did, or what they were even called. Just a bunch of machines. The wolfish part of me wanted to break every single one of them in a fit of rage, which was something I didn't feel that often. That was Whitney's thing.

"They're gone, and the stairs are clear." Liz whispered in my ear. I hadn't even seen her come in. I jumped involuntarily, my hand tightening on the doorknob hard enough to make it creak. She smiled apologetically, and I forced myself to smile back. At least I hadn't yelled out.

The three of us slipped out of the science room and to the stairwell door. I paused for a second and pushed it open experimentally. It wasn't as loud as I'd initially thought. I held it open and motioned for Aunt Tori and Uncle Simon to step in. They did, and then they looked at me for direction. I glanced at Liz, who was already heading down the stairs, floating easily in a way that was almost eerie.

At the base of the stairs, there was another door. Liz looked into the hallway, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She came back to the stairwell. "There are three guards in the cells. One for each of you. And of course, I'll be there." She smiled brightly, as if the thought of a fight was more action than she'd planned for the day, and she was happy for it. I stifled the urge to sigh, and she glanced into the hallway for a second time. "Let's go," she whispered, opening the door herself. I caught the edge, and we all followed.

Liz led us down into the cells. It was on the first floor, but this area obviously had no windows, only bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling from their wires in a row, which somehow seemed more macabre (in a weird sort of way) than anything else I'd seen so far. Maybe it was to play up the dungeon theme they'd had going on down here. Liz raised her eyebrows at me, and I turned to look at my aunt and uncle.

I'd never noticed before how eager they seemed. I knew they wanted to break in to help me and Whitney get our parents back, but it was obviously a thrill for them, too. There was a shine to their eyes, which made them seem decades younger. Aunt Tori lifted her hand, bright blue sparks flying off her fingers. I ducked away from them immediately, since I had been scared that they'd burn me ever since I was a kid. She nodded at me, and so did Uncle Simon.

I looked up into the camera by the wall. Something told me that Whitney was watching. I smiled into the little red eye, hoping that my sister wasn't worried about me like I was worried about her. If one of us had to be the strong one, it was supposed to be her.

It was always her.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the hallway. "Hey," I said with a sense of bravado I didn't know I had. "I think I'm lost. I'm just looking for the bathroom…?"

To my surprise, the first two guards actually seemed to believe it. One of them stood up, as if to direct me. But the last saw right through me. He reached for the walkie talkie on his hip, and before I could launch myself at him, Aunt Tori tumbled into the hallway, her hands up in the air. The guard froze, his eyes wide with panic, his hand halfway to his walkie talkie. The others stilled for a moment, obviously shocked. I took the moment and dove for the second one while Uncle Simon issued a vicious knock-back spell on the closet one.

There was absolutely no turning back, now.

**Woo! I felt like that was kind of a long chapter. Maybe it was just me. I think there's only going to be two more chapters left, at most, and the last "chapter" might end up being more of an epilogue. This is seriously my longest fanfic… maybe too long?**

**I've skimmed over it for errors, but if you see any of them, please just ignore them. I promise I've been trying to get better about reading over my chapters, because no matter how much I wish I was perfect, I'm not. :P**

**Anyway. Thank you all for taking the time to read this. And as you know by now I have a horribly annoying tendency to beg for reviews at this moment. So, yeah. Do that for me.**

**Peace (:**


	26. Fight to the Finish

**Lucky Ariana Wolf – Lol, thanks! I do that, too. I've gotten into the habit of reading to the point where I end up on multiples of five. (Wow, I did not realize how OCD I sounded until just now.)**

**fireicegirl16 – Patience, dear reader! I don't want to give too much away, but your wishes may come true….**

**BiblioCentric – You can't know how much joy your review gave me. I literally laughed out loud, I was so happy. And my favorite comparison? Rambo meets Supernatural. Rambo is my favorite 80s movie (with The Breakfast Club not far behind) and I've been practically addicted to Supernatural since the first episode I saw. So having this compared to those is absolutely mind-blowing. Thank you, for taking the time to read this when it's almost over, and for giving me one of the best reviews I've ever received. (: **

**Gee Buttersnapps – Thanks! It really means a lot that you jumped in after so many chapters, and stuck with it (:**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_26: Fight to the Finish_

Zander

His punch caught me right in the chin. I blinked a few times, dazed. He'd hit me hard enough to make me see stars. I hadn't really expected that. I hadn't ever been in a fight before (aside from the one with the Pack, which didn't really count because they'd hit me over the head before I could even fight back), although I'd practiced for one for years. But I was still far from perfect. According to Whitney, I was always the more obvious of the two of us when it came to my strengths and weaknesses, and I'd always considered the face shot kind of debilitating.

Whitney also said that I came off as the one most likely to give up. I liked to think that it was because I didn't want to hurt my sister, and in the moment, I was kind of surprised that I was right. I'd always harbored a fear that I wouldn't be able to shape up the way my dad had always urged me to. I'd always been scared that I was going to end up a stain on the ground, like dad and later Whitney had told me would happen if I didn't actually put some power behind my attacks, and some real attention in my defenses. But I was holding my own.

Aside from the face shot, that is.

I worked my jaw, deciding that it was only bruised. Bringing my fists up the way dad had taught me, I executed a perfect double-tap, as Whitney had affectionately called two punches, one right hook, the other a jab, when we were kids. _One. Two._ Their voices floated through my mind like they were right there with me, dad telling me how to fix my stance technically, Whitney telling me to man up and actually _punch_. I closed my eyes for the briefest moment, brought back my fist, and let it fly.

I felt the crunch under my knuckles, and for a moment I thought I was going to be sick from the sound alone. The guard I was fighting paused, his mouth open in a yell of pain. For a moment, nothing happened, and then blood rushed out of his nose. The guard's eyes were watering, and I took the chance and kicked at his knees. My foot connected, and he went down. His head cracked against the floor, the sound loud enough that I winced. But he didn't get back up.

Before I could take a step forward, Liz was at his side, digging through his belt. "He's fine," she told me, making a face at the blood pooling under his nose. It was already slowing, but I could tell from this angle that it was definitely broken. By morning, his eyes would be swollen shut. "He's just knocked out. And you broke his nose. If you asked me he had kind of a nice nose. Before," she specified. I blinked a few times as she rambled.

I looked up in time to see Uncle Simon taking one of the guard's batons from their belts, whacking him over the head with enough force that the guy dropped like a sack of rocks. Aunt Tori still had one of the guards bound with magic. Uncle Simon delivered a blow to his head, which was almost savage. At least, I told myself, we weren't killing them. Just knocking them out, so they could live another day.

"Here they are," Liz said with triumph. She lifted the keys from the belt of the first guard, the one that Uncle Simon had been fighting. She handed them to me, and I approached the first door. Sticking the key into the lock, I twisted it until it clicked, then slowly began to open the door.

The inside of the room was dark, though there was another bulb, uncovered, hanging from the wire, in the middle of the room. The ceiling was impossibly high, I thought, but I didn't have time to linger on that. Instead, I focused on the one piece of furniture in the room. It was a cot, and it had obviously been there for a long time. The entire room stunk of human filth, the scent so strong that my eyes watered. They'd been treating their prisoners like _animals_. I knew they were bad when I heard news that they'd put my parents in cages, but I hadn't imagined that it would be this bad. It was worse than a jail cell.

Sitting on the cot was a girl. She looked young, her hair long and orangey-red, natural. Her face looked like it was once round, but probably weeks of starvation had thinned her out. She looked like she hadn't been given a shower, and smelled strongly of sweat and the physical undertone of what dad told me was _fear_.

"You're okay," I said as calmly as I could, passing the keys to Uncle Simon so he could open the next few cells. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear." I told her. I toed the inside of the cell, but she didn't move. She just watched me. I stepped in farther, even though the scent of the room reminded me of despair and anguish and loss. "We're here to break you out."

She eyed me like she didn't believe me. I didn't exactly blame her, when she'd been kept in a place like this. Her fingers ran through her hair, pulling it back behind her ear. Her cheeks were covered in freckles, tiny dots that ran over her nose. There were even a few across her forehead. Her fingernails were broken, dark with old blood, and I wondered if she'd scratched at the walls, trying to force her way out even though it was impossible.

"I'm Zander," I said. "That's my Aunt Tori, and my Uncle Simon, and we're here to get you out of here. What's your name?" I asked, stepping in a little farther.

The girl unfolded her legs and took a hold of the bedframe, using it to haul herself to her feet. With a shock, I realized that she wasn't the little girl I'd thought she was. She had to be closer to my age. Fifteen, maybe, sixteen at the oldest, but definitely not older than me. "Sophia," she answered. "I'm Sophia."

"Well, Sophia," I said, stepping closer to the door. "It's time to get you out of here."

Her eyes lit up, and she walked a few steps. She seemed to almost be in pain. I imagined it was weakness, due to the lack of nourishment. She was probably dehydrated. She needed to get to the hospital, I thought with sudden urgency. And so did the others, probably, if they were in a state like Sophia.

She inched closer to me, like she wasn't sure if I was going to try to trick her. Her eyes, stormy gray, searched mine, and she smiled. Her small, thin hand reached out and rested softly on my arm. Her skin felt hot to the touch. Maybe she had a fever. Weren't fevers signs of greater problems?

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice soothingly musical. "You couldn't have come here just to set us free." She added.

"They have my parents." I told her. "They have them somewhere upstairs." She nodded, as if it all made sense.

"So, you just decided to come down here, instead of going right after your parents?" Geez, she was smart. I looked at her again, and despite the fact that she was using my arm to help herself stand, it was obvious that she was a fighter. She had the same mischievous spark in her eye that I thought Whitney had created and patented alone. "That's too valiant, even for a knight like you."

I swallowed, aware of the fact that my cheeks were turning bright red. "We're the diversion." I admitted, because even though I wanted to be the knight in shining armor, I didn't come out of here out of the goodness of my heart alone. Sure, we'd all decided that it was right for us to come down here and set the other supernaturals free, but they weren't our prime target. A hint of shame washed over me at that. "My sister's upstairs. We were hoping that you and the others would help us rally against them, but it's obvious that you guys can't. You're all… wounded." I said, because I could tell that Sophia wouldn't want to be called _sick_.

Sophia looked down the hallway. Aunt Tori was ranting about how we'd obviously miscalculated, because these people weren't in any state to be fighting for us. She wanted to open the doors and set them free, send them to the woods with the orders to either wait for us, or go off on their own, their choice. I stepped closer, with Sophia still hanging on my arm, and peered into the cell that Uncle Simon had disappeared into.

Like Sophia's cell, this one stunk of negative emotions and age and of a life. But it also smelled like something worse, something rotten. I looked in and saw Uncle Simon bending down by the person lying on the cot. He had two fingers to the man's throat. After a minute, he looked up and shook his head. Only five of the six prisoners would see freedom.

Sophia sighed lightly next to me. "I knew he wouldn't make it much longer," she said softly, her voice dancing on the air. The others that had escaped, each of them a bit frenzied and shocked and elated all at the same time, looked in with sorrow. They may not have known him, but they understood that he was a fellow prisoner, one that was not getting the lucky break they were.

"Okay, listen up." Aunt Tori said, commanding attention. Everyone quieted down and looked at her. "You are going to wait by the door at the end of the hall. In a few minutes, a fire alarm is going to go off. It's going to be a real fire, I swear." Sophia's fingers tightened on my arm, pinching my skin. I tried not to wince. "When that alarm goes off, run straight for the woods. When we get out of here, we'll help you get into the city. You guys can clean up and find your way home."

"If," one of them said suddenly. "_If _you guys get out of here." He sounded broken, like he'd given up completely.

Aunt Tori raised her fingers, showing off her witchy-ness. "Want to run that by me again, or are you just going to shut up and do what I say? I'd suggest the latter, because if it wasn't for us you'd still be locked up, rotting away."

"Tori," Uncle Simon interjected. He shook his head at her, and she sneered. I hadn't really seen a side of Aunt Tori like that. It was both awesome and frightening.

"Here," I said, looking down at Sophia. "Let me help you to the door."

"No," she said, digging her heels into the ground. "I'm not going with them. I'm going with you."

"You can't –" I started.

"You can barely walk," Aunt Tori interrupted. Her voice was not exactly _unkind_, but it wasn't kind, either. It was obvious that she wanted to initiate Plan B right away, because Plan A had been a bust.

"I may not be my strongest," Sophia replied sharply. "But I'm an Aduro half-demon. I start fires. It's kind of my thing." She grinned. "And I want to exact my own revenge."

Aunt Tori looked at her for a second, but her eyes had gone softer, like she understood revenge. I wouldn't put it past her. Aunt Tori was awesome, and she and Whitney got along like best friends, but she wasn't one to talk about her past all that much. In fact, neither did Uncle Simon, or our parents. "Okay, come on then. We've got to hurry." She led the way to the stairs.

Uncle Simon and I helped Sophia up the steps. I could tell that it pained her to need assistance, but she was determined to play a part in this. We got to the top, and Liz checked for anyone passing. When she gave us the go, we slipped into the same room we'd hidden in earlier.

"See that great big thing of chemicals?" Sophia asked. "Can you make a paper trail to it? Aduro half-demons can only ignite flammable things. Exhaustio's are so much cooler. But you can't pick your parents, right? And dear old dad, he's not bad, for a fire demon." I couldn't tell if she was joking or not, and decided not to ask. Instead, I left her leaning against the wall and helped to create a paper trail from the chemicals to the door. Uncle Simon and Aunt Tori slipped into the hall and started to back track. I held open the door, and Sophia bent down to touch her hand to the paper.

"When this really gets going, you might want to run," she warned, and then the paper erupted under her palm. It burned faster than I thought, spreading from one page to the next. I grabbed Sophia's hand to pull her out with me, but she wouldn't be able to run, like she'd said to. Instead, I grabbed her behind the knees and lifted her in my arms. She was too thin, and didn't weigh much at all. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I started to run, turning the corner. Aunt Tori and Uncle Simon were waiting for me.

Sophia laughed, a high-pitched giggle that spoke of true excitement and joy. I wondered when the last time she truly laughed was. I wondered how long she'd been trapped in there. I wondered what they'd done to her. "We're going to have to duck in four… three… two…."

_BOOM._

# # #

Watson

Thunder sounded through the building, and the entire foundation shook. I could feel it. Vance grabbed onto the chair nearest to him, and Helena fell to the floor, too far away from anything to find something solid to help her steady herself. I wrapped my fingers around the bars of Chloe Souza's cell, my knees shaking.

What was going on? This was the most important day of my life! I was supposed to be given a promotion! I was supposed to be given glory! And it did _not_ start with problems before Mr. St. Cloud could even arrive.

Distantly, I heard Chloe calling out to her husband, the big lug. He was devious, I'd give him that, because he managed to trick me for a little while. I didn't plan on telling Mr. St. Cloud about that. But credit had to be given where there was credit due, and despite the fact that I'd heard Mr. Souza might've have ancestry of the stupid type, it was clear that it wasn't true for him.

The fire alarm wailed overhead. It was sure to cause me a splitting headache if someone didn't turn it off soon. "Sir!" Helena called out. Her voice was nearly lost, but then the ground straightened out again. I glanced over in time to see her getting to her feet. "Sir, there's word that someone broke in. Teenagers, they said." Helena sounded frantic. I would have to remind her that one did not ever panic, for it was unprofessional.

It didn't take me long to connect the dots. Chloe, looking all smug when she shouldn't have been. Teenagers breaking into a building, which was considered high security. The children of a necromancer and a werewolf, come to see their beloved parents. Finally, they'd come to me. "Do you hear that, Chloe?" I called into her cell. Her eyes were wide with fear, the same fear that I should've seen earlier. "Your precious children have come to me. They've played into a trap of my own creation."

I was just starting to get my feet underneath me when a hand reached out and wrapped around the collar of my lab coat. The grip was strong, stronger than Helena could manage, and stronger than Vance. It hauled me back, slamming me into the bars of the werewolf's cage. Hot breath came over my face. The werewolf dared to touch me! Where were the guards? Where they all this _stupid_!?

"Watson, if it's the last thing I do, I _will_ kill you."

# # #

Whitney

The explosion shook the whole building. I grabbed a hold of the desk as everything shook. A coffee cup, with only a bit still at the bottom, tipped over, and the cold liquid streamed out, coloring a stack of papers. Pens and pencils scattered all over the floor. One of the upper screens became dislodged and turned black. The fire alarm squealed overhead. At least that was one thing that I didn't have to do.

Coe was by my side in an instant. "Whitney, we've got to go." He said. Cursing under his breath, he muttered, "They weren't supposed to cause a freaking _explosion_."

Ignoring him, I ran my fingers over the keyboard. FILE DOWNLOAD: COMPLETE. INITIATE?

"Yes!" I yelled out to it, clicking on the button. It was probably useless now, but at least I was going to play my part. I ripped the USB drive from the computer without bothering to safely remove it. Coe darted for the door, already holding it open for me. I started to go through it, but I paused, looking at the guard, still passed out. I didn't know if the fire was going to burn until it died out, or if the entire building was going to collapse. I'd been wary about just knocking the guy out. I wasn't going to be the one that left him there to die.

"We can't leave him," I said.

Coe sighed. "You're right," he admitted. He bent down and grabbed the guard by the ankles, motioning for me to grab a hold of his hands. I did, and together we lifted him and maneuvered him out of the door. We hadn't made it very far when someone came careening around the corner. A very real someone. "Eddy!" He called out when he caught sight of the guard hanging between us.

Coe cleared his throat. "Brian!" He called back. The other guy paused, trying to place Coe. He must've decided that we worked there, because he nodded. "What the heck just happened? The entire building shook!"

"Someone's talking about a chemical explosion." Brian answered. He reached down and put two fingers to Eddy's neck. "What happened to him?"

"The explosion dumped pens and pencils all over the floor," Coe answered. "He slipped and hit his head and knocked himself out. We couldn't just leave him there." I nodded. Brian looked at us for a few seconds, like he wasn't really sure that he believed us. I prayed that he would.

"Here," Brian said. "Let me take him."

Gratefully, Coe and I passed him over. Liz showed up right then. "They're right behind me. Got your marker?" She asked. I nodded, ignoring the strange look Brian was giving me. I dug the marker out of my pocket and uncapped it. I reached for Coe's wrist. We called out a quick goodbye to Brian, and then we were running after Liz. I didn't bother to be sneaky with the marker this time, instead pressing it to the wall and running, leaving a messy line straight at eye level.

All of the people that worked here were struggling to get down the stairs. They were a mess. It almost looked impossible to get out. Coe and I paused at the edge. But people were coming in behind us, boxing us in. In all of the confusion, they didn't seem to notice that we were the ones that had caused this.

Coe and I jumped into the line of people fighting to get down the stairs. If the fire had been fake they all would've been pretty orderly, I imagined. But the fire alarm coupled with an explosion that had probably cracked the foundation of the building was something else altogether. It was true panic. Coe knotted his fingers in the back of my shirt and I pushed and shoved my way down the stairs, ignoring the cries of protest. _I_ had somewhere I had to be.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I caught sight of Liz. Coe was still right behind me, this time pressed so close that his chest was flush against my back. I imagined that I could hear his heartbeat, too. Or at least feel it, over the din of a hundred employees screaming to get out. Most of them were heading for the door to get out, thank God, and not the one to go deeper into the building. However, it was like swimming upstream. Coe and I had to force our way through the halls.

"This way!" Liz yelled out. Nobody seemed to notice her shout, but even if she'd been audible to all of them they probably wouldn't have heard her anyway. They were still freaking out. I glanced up at the ceiling. It looked like it was still holding well, though there were cracks in it. The fire had been started on the other side of the building, and it was pretty big. I imagined that we had a little time until it reached this side.

Right about that time, another explosion rocked through the building. There must've been another cache of chemicals. Perfect. I huffed in annoyance.

Up ahead, I could see Liz. People were running through her, completely unaware that she was even there. Liz wrapped her hand around the handle and yanked. People dodged the door, which must've looked like it opened by itself. The crowd was thinning as everyone fought to get out of the building. It made it easier for Coe and me to run.

We finally reached the door. Liz ducked in with a broom that she must've gotten from the nearby janitorial closet. I just managed to see her lift it high above her head, followed by the crack of gunshots. She looked up as the door started to closed, and I caught her expression. She wasn't hurt; she couldn't be wounded, because she was already dead. But we'd talked about this before. She didn't want them to start firing for fear that a stray bullet would hit one of my parents.

"Wait, Whitney!" Coe called out, reaching to grab my wrist.

"Not now!" I yelled back, grabbing the door handle. To my surprise, Coe tried to stop me, but they were _right there_. I could feel it. He pulled my hand away, and I turned sharply to the custodian closet. Inside were a few mops and some brooms. I gathered them in my arms. My choice to get them was spur of the moment, but the big picture was something that I'd dreamed about. I hadn't told it to anyone, because it was stupid, but maybe my subconscious was on to something.

"Can't we wait for your aunt and uncle and brother?" He asked. I looked up at him. He was truly scared, I realized. He said that he'd follow me anywhere, and he had. But he never said that he wouldn't be scared. I looked at the closed door. The sound of bullets had stopped, but I could hear shouting.

"No," I said decisively. I'd been thinking about this for a while, I realized. If there was a moment where I had to choose between myself and someone else, someone that I cared about, I would always choose the other person. Dad had never said that explicitly, but I'd seen it in every move he made. He would always choose mom or me or Zander over himself, even if it meant death. He was that kind of righteous. And even though I fought with him all the time, all I wanted was to be like my dad.

And if that meant risking myself for the lives of Zander, Aunt Tori, Uncle Simon, Mom, Dad, or even Coe, then I would. Dad always said that we wouldn't be anywhere without our loved ones, and that we needed to care for them. I loved all of those people, and they weren't going to risk themselves for something I decided, knowing that it was stupid.

"I'm sorry," I said. I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his cheek. I couldn't decide between his cheek or his lips, because a dramatic exit was always more interesting than a nondramatic one, but my embarrassment won out.

Taking that moment of his shock, I threw open the door, ducked inside, and shoved the collection of mops and brooms through the door handles. I couldn't bear the thought of someone else getting injured. I wanted the minimal risk, and if that meant me and a ghost fighting it out against guards with guns, then so be it.

I also knew that if I survived this, I was going to realize how stupid I sounded. Or, you know, my dad was going to kill me before I got the chance to regret it.

But I didn't have the time to think about the later. I only had the time to think about the present.

# # #

Chloe

Derek had Dr. Watson by the back of the lab coat. I'd seen my husband in all shades, and this one wasn't one of my favorites. He wasn't innocent, and but neither was I. I just didn't want him to do something that he would regret, because as much as we both hated Watson, he didn't necessarily deserve to die by our hand.

I opened my mouth to call out to Derek and talk him down from a ledge, so to speak. But I didn't get farther than his name before the double doors, the only entrance in the entire room, opened and Liz slipped in. I paused, completely shocked. Before, Liz had gone out of her way to be unnoticed, and now she was opening doors and using a broom to whack at the guards.

If Derek was shocked, he didn't show it. He didn't let go of Watson, but his eyes focused on the broom that Liz was swinging around. So did everyone else. "What is that?" Helena, the woman, asked. Her voice sounded scared. "Guards!"

The guards standing around the room, six in total, raised their guns and started firing. I ducked my head, trying to avoid getting shot. Watson started yelling that all of the guards were idiots. I wanted to call out to Liz, but I didn't want them to know that she was a ghost, or that I knew who she was. They'd probably figure it out for themselves soon enough, but I didn't necessarily need to help it along.

Liz focused on something outside in the hallway, and then she turned to look at me. With one devastating swing, she knocked one of the guards unconscious, leaving only five. They stopped shooting, finally realizing that it wasn't doing anything. Instead, they all stared at their fallen comrade. It was silent for a long moment, everyone completely frozen, and then the doors burst open again.

My worst fears came to light, because standing there, locking the doors with a bunch of mops and brooms, was my daughter.

**I thought this might be the last chapter, but it's not. I just have too much to write for one chapter. So there's going to be another. I'm betting on an epilogue, so look for at least two more updates after this one.**

**You guys know the drill by now. Thanks for reading! Peace (:**


	27. Final Stand

**fireicegirl16 – Yep, she does care. (:**

**Lucky Ariana Wolf – Lol, nope, I don't think I could be that mean to readers. That would be way too heart breaking for me, haha!**

**Inujuju712 – Oh yeah. I don't know what he was thinking messing with a werewolf and his family. His genius is sometimes not so genius, after all. **

**Soul Mates are Forever – Oh, I'm a romantic at heart, and don't know if I would even be able to **_**think**_** about keeping the two of them apart.**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_27: Final Stand_

Zander

My whole body ached. What had happened? Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to remember the events before I'd blacked out. When it all came back to me, the sneaking in, Sophia, the explosion, I forced my eyes open and coughed, my chest seizing with pain. Rubble surrounded me, dust and dirt and powdered drywall. Forcing myself to sit up, I put a hand to my forehead. My fingers came away slicked with blood. No wonder I had a headache.

"Uncle Simon?" I asked, my voice dry and cracked. I needed some water. "Aunt Tori?" Where were they? I got my legs underneath me and lurched to my feet, teetering for a second as I struggled to regain my sense of balance. Someone was lying down by my feet, her long, freckled arm stretched forward, as if she'd been reaching for something. Looking down, I saw a dirty face and fiery red hair, and my stomach dropped. "Sophia?" I asked, bending down even though it hurt my knee and my back, and put a hand on her shoulder.

I wasn't sure if I should move her. What if she'd hurt her neck, or her spine? I placed my fingers just under her jaw, searching for signs of life. "Sophia, come on," I whispered. After a moment, I thought I caught a hint of a pulse, but it was gone before I could decide if it was real. I pressed my fingers into her throat a little harder, worried that I'd injure her. But no, that's when I felt it, quick, thudding beats. They felt a little weaker than they should be, but I didn't know if that had to do with the angle of my fingers. "Sophia," I said for a third time, and she groaned. Relief flooded my chest. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then she jerked away from me, like she thought that I was going to hurt her. When she realized it was just me, she relaxed and reached out with her hand. I took it in mine.

"Help me up," she said softly. She coughed a little and cleared her throat. I pulled her to her feet, and she wobbled just like I had. "I told you to run," she said, her tone obviously joking, though the combined creakiness of her voice did nothing to make me laugh. She looked back at the damage behind us. The ceiling had collapsed on us, and in the distance, I could tell that the floor had collapsed, too. We were lucky.

"Zander," someone called from further down the hallway. I squinted through the dust, and caught sight of Uncle Simon. He was already on his feet, and it looked like he was digging through the rubble. For a second, I was confused, and then realization hit me.

"Oh, God, Aunt Tori," I said. I pulled Sophia after me, unwilling to leave her behind. She slowed me down a little bit, but I wasn't at my best, either. My ribs ached with every step, and I'd wondered if I'd broken them. There wasn't anything I could do about that besides wrap them tight and hope they didn't pierce a lung. My left knee stung, but I could ignore it.

Uncle Simon beckoned me forward. Blood ran down the side of his face, staining his blonde hair and dripping down on his shirt. Sophia swallowed hard, and I found myself wondering if she didn't like the sight of blood. I let go of her hand and rushed to my uncle's side. Together, we moved a piece of the ceiling and revealed Aunt Tori's face. Her eyes were closed, and twin lines of blood ran out of her nose. Uncle Simon fell to his knees and put a hand to her face. "Tori," he said softly, so quietly that if I didn't have a piece of dad's superhuman hearing, I probably wouldn't have heard him. "Victoria, please don't do this," he muttered. His thumb smeared the blood coming from her eyebrow. He put his fingers to her throat, like I had to Sophia, except he didn't seem to be having any trouble.

"Will she be okay?" Sophia asked, standing beside me. I hadn't even noticed that she'd walked up to me, or that she'd rested her hand on my arm, both out of comfort and because she was still too weak to stand on her own.

Uncle Simon looked up, and I relaxed when I saw his expression. He was obviously relieved. "She'll be fine. I think she was just knocked out." He looked back down at his half-sister, and said, "The Enright women were never able to handle a crumbling building." He laughed dryly to himself, though Sophia and I didn't get his joke. "Zander, help me get her up, will you?"

I helped him lift Aunt Tori up to her feet. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Uncle Simon draped her arm around his neck and put his other hand around her waist. "I've got to get her out of here." He said. "I'm taking her out of the building, out to the woods, and then I'll be back. Go find Coe and Whitney." He said. He looked at Sophia and added, "I think you should come with me."

Sophia looked at me for a second, an inner debate raging in her eyes, and then nodded. "Okay. I'll watch over her." Uncle Simon and Sophia hobbled towards the nearest stairwell, Aunt Tori hanging between them. I watched them go for a second, and then forced myself to forget about them, because my sister needed me. I half ran, half limped down the hall. When I reached the balcony, I had to dodge debris; the windows were blown out, one of the doors hanging on by a hinge. I stopped for a second, searching the dark woods for any sign of life, whether it was Uncle Simon and Sophia, or if it was one of the prisoners we'd let out.

Just before I took another step, the entire building shook again, and the burst of another explosions sent heat all over the room. I didn't see any fire, but I saw a lot of smoke. Forcing myself to stand up straight, I started running, ignoring the pain in my chest and in my knee, searching for the marker on the walls. At first, it was hard to catch sight of it, but once I reached the camera room, I saw an obvious line on the wall, right at eye level.

Taking a moment, I put my finger to it, sucking a deep breath. Over the scent of fire, chemicals, and other people, I swore I caught the hint of Whitney, and another wolf – Coe. Confident that I was going in the right direction, I ran, not worrying about being caught. If not all, most employees had escaped. Nobody should be standing in my way, now.

To be honest, I was a bit nervous as I took another sharp right, following the marker and Whitney's unique scent. Everything I did was under the tutelage of my father, and, on occasion, my older sister. Even my first day of school, Whitney had handed me a map with all of my classes marked in bright highlighter, as well as the quickest paths to get there. She'd instructed me to find her at lunch, where she took me under her wing even though I was her kid brother. She never talked about that, but it was one of the things I'd loved about her, one of the things that I would always remember. Because even though she had a hard shell, protected with cynical sarcasm and pure viciousness, underneath was a huge softie with a heart of gold.

I ran harder, determined to be there for my sister, the way she was always there for me. But when I turned the last corner I stuttered in my step. It was a long hallway, and there were a surprisingly low amount of doors. But the most shocking thing was that Coe stood in front of a pair of double doors, alone. Fire burst in my chest, not only from the ribs that ached, but because my sister, the girl he was supposed to protect with his life, was nowhere in sight.

His fists and forearms rested on the door, his forehead dropped against it. Even from a distance, I could smell his defeat. He took a deep breath and looked up sharply when I neared, his eyes glowing with the same inner wolf that I'd seen on my dad. "What are you doing out here?" I asked, not exactly out of breath, but huffing a little harder than usual. Anger and panic colored my vision. "Where's Whitney?"

Coe banged his fist on the double doors. "She's in there, with Liz." He said. I could detect the anger in his voice, laced with worry. And that made me nervous. "She locked me out." He yelled suddenly, so loudly and viciously that my body reacted on its own, preparing me for his attack, even though rationally I knew he wasn't angry at me. "She. Locked. Me. Out." Each word was punctuated, hissing between his teeth.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice hopelessly small. A deep part of me knew that this is what I should've expected. Whitney had always been headstrong, and if she was determined that _she_ be the one to save our parents, then she would. And if she wanted to do it herself, without risking anyone else, she would. Whitney liked to pretend that she was untouchable, and at times, she was. But anybody that paid attention long enough would know that she would give her life for someone that she cared about in a way that was both selfless and reckless.

I guess a part of me knew that once we reached the last lengths, Whitney would push everyone else out of the way, and take the brunt herself. She'd been saying all along that she was going to save our parents.

She would. She had to.

Coe looked at me with an expression that reminded me of one that I'd seen on my father's face whenever he thought about the safety of his little girl. It made me feel like I'd been sucker punched right in the gut. My father and I felt protective of Whitney, like she was a part of our pack. But the look in Coe's eyes said that he thought of her as part of _his_ pack, or at least worthy of his protection. I wasn't too sure that I wanted to share that job with him.

Forcing myself to swallow, I decided that I didn't have the time to fully think about it. I knew that there was no way I would be able to back up Whitney without bringing Coe along. And we didn't exactly know what to expect in there. Coe's assistance might be crucial, and I wasn't stupid enough to turn him down, not after all he'd done with us and for us.

The wolf in me hated to admit it, but we needed him.

He must've been talking, because we stared at each other for a moment. He reached out suddenly and grabbed a hold of my shoulders, his fingers digging into muscle. I straightened even though it hurt, meeting his gaze. The scent of challenge hung in the air. I knew that my wolf challenged him, but now I wondered if his challenged mine. He must've cared about Whitney a lot more than he seemed to, if he thought he could feel like that. My heart was thudding in my chest. Tension was thick, making me feel like I was on some kind of high as adrenaline whipped through my system.

Coe released me just as suddenly as he'd grabbed me. "Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head. "I've been trying to break down that door, but it's thick. And Whitney put mops in there to hold the handles. I just… I _have _to get in there."

"Maybe we both need to kick it." I said, then I admitted, with a smile, "I've always wanted to do that." I was kind of hoping to lighten the feeling of the room, because it was too tight right then, so much that it almost felt like it was suffocating me.

It worked, because Coe smiled, just a little bit. "Yeah, me too."

Together, we stood in front of the double doors. Putting all my weight on my bad leg, we looked at each other, then kicked with all of our might. The door shook, and I swore I felt it give a little. We'd just keep going, until we made it in.

# # #

Whitney

Everything froze when I turned around. Five guards were holding their guns, pointed right at me. Liz was floating a little bit in front of me, as if she was going to protect me with her ghostly body. I glanced around the room furtively. My eyes sought out my parents, and they landed on my mother.

I could see her blue eyes from a distance, wide and round, with tiny little crow's feet on the edges. They seemed to sparkle with unshed tears, but I couldn't be for sure about that. Her lips formed one word: _No_. Emotion clogged my throat, and I fought to swallow. Just seeing her there, hunkered in the corner of a huge cage, looking dirty and tired, made me realize how much I took her for granted before. I'd never expected that she'd just be gone without a trace. "Mom," I whispered.

Her eyes darted away from me and to the cage next to her. My father stood at his full height, both of his arms outside of his cage. He held an old man in a white coat against the bars, one arm wrapped around the doctor's throat. His eyes were fiery green. The wolf was coming out, taking hold of his instincts. And clearly, my father found the doctor one of the most dangerous things in the room.

Remembering where I was, I let my gaze slide around the room, taking in everyone and everything. The room was fairly bare, except for the cages and the chairs up at the front of the room. Aside from my parents and the doctor, there were the five guards, another man dressed in a sharp suit, and a woman wearing a white coat over skin-tight clothes. I had the feeling that the coat was just a formality; she looked like the dangerous type, for some reason.

My entire body tensed, my knees bending a little bit, preparing myself for attack. But nobody moved. The only sound was the one behind me. Coe was trying his best to get into the room, yelling my name, though it was heavily muffled. Besides that, though, it was perfectly silent. And then, to my amazement, and apparently everyone else's, the doctor started to laugh.

He was the perfect villain, I decided. He had the creepy cackle down pat. I saw my father's arm tighten, and the laugh petered off as the doctor tried to get air into his lungs. When he could breathe again, he cried out, "Look! Look what we have here!" He struggled a little bit against dad. One of the guards moved forward, putting the long barrel of his gun in between the bars of dad's cage. Dad seemed to think about it for a moment, weighing his options. Though I was decidedly scared, I was prepared to step down or jump into action, depending on his choice.

Dad's grasp on the doctor lessened, and then he let go of him completely. The entire room seemed to relax a little bit, now that my dad wasn't in the position to snap the doctor's neck. The doctor, for his part, pretended like nothing was out of the ordinary as he cleared his throat and ran a hand under his jaw. He smiled at me, and my stomach tightened. "Dear, dear girl," he said, his voice weak but bright. "Has anyone told you that you look incredibly like your father?" He coughed a few times, shot a glare at the werewolf behind him, and then stepped closer to me. "There's no denying you, is there?" My muscles were starting to ache from being so tense, but I forced myself not to move. I didn't want to step back and him see it as a retreat, a victory.

"I knew you would come to me, you see? Your father here tried to send me on a wild goose chase, but I knew… I _knew_ that a child born from a werewolf would be unable to ignore to the challenge presented. But," he paused, tilting his head as he looked at me, "isn't there another one of you abominations?"

I fought the urge to close my eyes and pretend like I was somewhere else. I knew that if he knew about me, he probably knew about Zander. But I wasn't willing to acknowledge the fact that I had a brother, especially if he wanted me to give the location of him. So instead I was silent, clenching my teeth together. The doctor laughed, and the pounding on the door continued. "Is that him there, then?"

At first, I wanted to tell the truth, so he wouldn't know that Zander was anywhere nearby. The doctor made it seem like he wanted me, me and Zander, for some reason, and I didn't want to be the one that led him to his second subject. The second reaction was to lie, and tell him that Coe was Zander, so the doctor and the guards didn't know that I had more than just my brother on my side.

The third choice was to change the subject. "Who are you?" I asked. I'd meant to sound strong and defiant, but my voice came out softer than I intended, and a little wobbly. I swallowed hard and took a harder stance, determined to make up for my transgression.

"Oh, do forgive me. Where are my manners? I am Dr. Watson. And you?" He gave me a creepy smile. He thought he had already won. My stomach knotted, and I wondered if I might throw up. What would his face look like, if I threw up all over him?

"Whitney," I said. At least this time, my voice came out harder.

He turned his back to me, making it obvious that he didn't see me, or my ghostly friend, as a threat. Liz stepped forward, dragging her broom behind her. The closest guard aimed his gun at her, but when she kept moving, he turned it to me. Fear coiled in my gut, and Liz froze, her fingers tightening on the handle. She wouldn't do anything if my life was threatened. I swallowed the urge to push the gun away from me, and instead focused on Watson.

"What a wonderful name, if I do say so myself, Mrs. Souza," he said, clasping his hands together behind his back. I looked away from him, and my eyes connected with my father's. In his gaze, I saw a rush of emotions. He was angry and worried, which were two things that I had expected. But then there was something I hadn't foreseen, and that was the pride. Pride in _me_.

Dad gave me an almost imperceptible nod, and then he shot a glance towards the guard next to me, and the broom that Liz was holding. He nodded his head, enough so that I gave the guard a hard look. He was dressed like all the others, wearing dark clothes that hugged his body enough to give him a wide range of movement, but where thick enough that it was like Kevlar. He had on boots, the kind with enough tread on the bottom to keep him from accidentally slipping. He wore a dark helmet that strapped underneath his chin like I imagined army helmets did, creating a smooth, round dome atop his head. He even wore gloves, though it wasn't even close to being cold. He was dressed for battle, with the only open spots being his neck and his face. Both places were a good target to lay a hit, but not when he was carrying a gun.

I eyed the gun he held in his hands. It looked like an assault rifle, but that was where my knowledge on guns ended. Neither of my parents had been a fan of them, so that was a part of my knowledge that they'd skipped on. The majority of what I knew came from my deep-rooted obsession with action movies, and they weren't exactly a manual. I did know, though, that if the guard just barely pulled the trigger, it would send off a bullet at a speed that I couldn't even track. And a bullet at just the right spot would kill me instantly. If not, I might lie there, slowly bleeding out.

I looked up at dad, and he shook his head a little, just enough to let me know that I was missing the point. I looked back at the guard, whose eyes were on me. I was vaguely aware of the fact that Watson was still talking to my mother, and my guess would be that he was hoping to anger either me or my father, or both. But neither of us was listening. _So ha_, I thought distantly.

Clearing my mind, I tried to focus back on the guard. Time was of the essence. My eyes took in his helmet, the Kevlar vest, the dark gloves, the long pants, and the laced-up boots. Right when I was looking up to my father, I noticed a glint at the guard's hip. His pants had pockets, and peeking out of the top was a shiny set of keys. I glanced at the padlocks attached to my parents' cages, and back to the keys in the guard's pocket, before completely averting my gaze.

Instead, I eyed the broom that Liz still had. When I'd grabbed all those mops and brooms, they'd solely been to lock the doors and keep Coe from getting in. I hadn't thought to grab one as a weapon. I should've but I didn't.

Right about then, the silence on the other side of the doors stopped, and there was a loud, crashing bang. The doors jerked, but nobody seemed interested in the fact that there were more people out there. I hoped that Zander and Uncle Simon and Aunt Tori had found Coe. I guess I'd hoped that by time they got here, I'd already have broken my parents out. But it was obvious now that my plan was really based on just a stroke of chance and luck, because I should've known that it wasn't going to work. The sound came again, and this time, I could've sworn that I heard the wooden handles on the brooms and mops start to crack.

Swallowing hard, I tried to think of how to get the keys from the guard and to dad without letting anyone know what I was thinking. I'd have to move fast, faster than I had in any of our training sessions. I remembered the last time dad had taken me and Zander to the middle school's open track after dark, when he made us run. The last time he'd done that, I'd run a mile in about four minutes, and he'd told me that even though it was a good time, there would come a moment where I'd have to be even faster. It seemed that the time had come.

The crack of the wooden handles rang out a third time, a fourth, a fifth… and then the doors burst open, flinging broken pieces of brooms across the room. Everyone turned to see who had just busted in, literally, and I took it as my chance.

I reached out and wrenched the broom away from Liz, who fought me for a second before letting go. In one smooth motion, I whipped the broom around and caught the guard right under the chin, where the strap of his helmet nestled against his jaw. He fell backwards from the sudden attack, and I turned the broom around and hit him in the face with the bristled ends. He pulled up his gun to shoot, and I knocked it down, reaching for his keys. We ended up grappling for a bit as I tried to avoid the gun and he tried to aim it at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liz rushing for one of the broken bits. The guard pushed me up against the wall, his gun between us. He'd split my lip at some point, the salty taste of copper threading across my tongue as I wrestled against him.

Everything seemed to slow down. Seconds turned to minutes as I struggled with what to do. It seemed like every time I made a move against him, he managed to make a move back. We were both sloppy; I hadn't voluntarily trained in a long time, and it was obvious that he was just hired help. He wasn't some army soldier sectioned here by the government, and he wasn't a highly trained assassin. In fact, when I looked up into his eyes, I saw that he could only be a few years older than me. And there was fear in his eyes. He'd never encountered anything like this before.

The shock made me falter, and instead of taking that chance to end me, he stepped back an inch. Unlike him, I took the moment and used it against him. Both of my hands were on the gun, even though I didn't want it, and one of his hands covered nearly both of mine. Instead of drawing back to punch, I just bit down on my lip, and pivoted on my foot, sending my bent elbow directly into his face. Blood spurted from his mouth; a felt a few drops hit my cheeks. I didn't have the time to be grossed out, though. I wrenched the gun up and kneed him right in the boys. As he dropped, I snatched the keys from his pocket.

I brought them back over my head, and threw them to my father with as much force as I could manage. At least, that was the plan. Because right before I moved to throw them, the guard I'd just kneed reached out and grabbed a hold of my ankle. He jerked me off balance, and I went down hard. The keys landed only a few feet away from me, instead of halfway across the room. The guard and I looked at each other, then scrambled to get the keys before the other. His fingers dug into my leg, and he twisted my foot hard enough that I gasped with pain. I drew back and kicked at him as hard as I could, forgetting that pity that I'd felt for him only moments before.

Liz was suddenly in front of me. Her fingers grabbed up the keys, and she took off towards my father. I could have sworn that I heard them jangling together, over the sounds of everyone yelling. Someone started firing a gun, and everyone else sort of followed suit. I immediately curled up into a ball, trying to make myself a smaller target. But that one guard still had a hold of my leg. Mustering all my strength, I turned sharply and aimed my foot right for his face. I hit something, I just wasn't sure what. But he let go, and I rolled away from him.

My eyes darted around the room. Coe had broken down the door alright, and he was flanked by Zander. My heart thudded wildly in my chest as I scrambled to get to my feet. I managed to see Liz hand off the keys to my dad. Watson was yelling about how stupid everyone was, and the man in the suit had ducked behind the chairs. It looked like he was on his phone, too. Bullets rained down, and it was a wonder that no one was lying dead on the ground yet.

I stood up shakily and ran towards Coe and Zander. It was sort of a sight to see; Zander and Coe had always been a bit at odds with each other, mostly because of their inner wolves. But now the two of them were standing side by side, joined together by a common goal. Coe turned just in time to see me, and he reached out a hand. I took it, and he pulled me into his chest. It was just a movement meant to bring me away from the guards that wanted to kill me, I was sure, but that didn't mean that my heart didn't flutter at the thought of being pressed up against him.

The moment was gone quickly, and I was wedged between him and my brother. I had no idea how they thought we were going to get to my parents without getting shot. But I was willing to risk it. It was what I came all this way for. As I took a step forward, Zander wrapped his hand around my arm and jerked me back.

"Oh, no you're not." He said sharply. It was then that I realized just how much he towered over me, how broad he'd gotten. He wasn't so much my _little_ brother anymore. "You've risked enough, Whitney. Get back in the hall."

"No!" I shouted. Zander put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down hard. I thought I felt a bullet whiz right over my head, but I wasn't sure. I struggled to stand back up, and Zander yanked me to my feet and shoved me towards the open double doors. Coe turned to look at me, and I saw pleading in his eyes. A part of me wanted to back down, because I knew that for him to look at me like that, he really meant it.

But the majority of me said that I couldn't, and it was right, this time. They were my parents, and it was my mission. They were Zander's, too, so why did he think that he could go on without me? I jerked away from him and broke away, running towards the cages. My senses felt hyperaware. The air felt thicker, and smelled like blood. I could practically taste it on my tongue. The guard I'd fought was lying on the ground right where I left him, and Coe and Zander had managed to take out two more, which left Watson with a guy cowering behind a chair, a woman with a small pistol that couldn't hold that many bullets, and two guards.

And, I noticed with relief, dad had managed to undo his padlock and was hurriedly working on mom's. My joy was short lived, though, because one of the remaining guards turned his gun on dad. I screamed out a warning, but I knew it wasn't enough. I jumped up, wrapping my arms around the guard's neck and bringing him down to the floor with me. This one was burlier than the first, and he had no qualms about hitting a girl. His fist caught me right in the stomach, and it hurt enough that my eyes watered and I struggled to breathe for a few seconds.

He was gone in a flash, his weight completely removed. Coe's eyes were wild as he yanked him up off of me. I rolled away before one of them kicked me, and came face to face with the woman. The pistol, which had looked so small from a distance, now seemed so much larger. She pointed it right at me, and unlike the first guard, she didn't look scared. I ducked away, but she still pulled the trigger. I felt the bullet bury itself into my shoulder, and the flash of pain that followed. A scream ripped from my mouth, enough that Coe turned to look at me and got drilled in the face for it. I fell to my knees, gripping my shoulder. Blood seeped between my fingers, hot and sticky.

"Mom!" I yelled as she stepped out of the cage. I suddenly remembered my instructions. My plan had worked. There was so much chaos that I couldn't even think straight. Now, though, I remembered what I was supposed to tell my mother. Instead of diving into my father's embrace, mom started running towards me. "Get your favor! That's what Aunt Tori said!"

She dropped to my knees, pressed her hands to my wound, and closed her eyes. "Okay, Diriel," she whispered under her breath. "I think it's high time you pay up." When she opened her eyes, I could tell that she was scared, but I didn't know what of. Who was Diriel? And why was my mom calling on them?

"Help me, Whitney!" She said. I looked into her eyes, so different than mine. Blue where mine were green, honest and open where mine were closed off and cautionary. Mom was so different from me. I'd always considered myself more of my father's daughter, and Zander was our mother's son. But there was something that she had given me, something that I'd sort of pushed away.

Like my mother, I was a necromancer.

I closed my eyes. I didn't have anyone to picture in my mind, but I had a name. "Diriel," I said, trying out the strange name on my tongue. There were still shouts and screams and bullets and the scent of blood surrounding us, but I tried to block it all out. Mom's hands tightened on my shoulder, and I hissed in pain, but I didn't pull away. Instead, we called out the name together, begging for whoever it was to show up and save us from this miserable place we'd put ourselves.

Mom stopped whispering, and I opened my eyes. In front of us was a woman, one that I'd never seen before. There was something about her that didn't seem right, though. She seemed… inhuman. "Diriel," mom said. "Do you remember that deal that we made all those years ago? I'm calling in on it. We need to get out, alive."

Diriel leaned forward, her dark eyes taking us in. She looked at me for a long time, and I wondered what she saw in me. Then she turned and looked at my mother. "Little necromancer," she said, her voice cool. It made me think of cobwebs, somehow. "You're not so little anymore."

"Please," mom whispered. "Please help us."

"A deal is a deal," Diriel answered. She glanced at the scene behind us and said, "After this deal is completed, I'm not at your whim anymore. Once it is finished, it is finished. Don't be fishing around where you shouldn't." She waited until mom nodded, and then she looked behind her, though I didn't see anything. "You best hurry. They're coming." I didn't get the chance to ask who, though, because just as suddenly as she'd shown up, she was gone. Mom pulled me sharply to my feet, and I yelped through the pain.

"Who was that? What did she mean?"

"We have to go," she answered. "I'll explain later." She added. "Derek! Zander!"

Our group ignored the guards and Watson, and headed for the doors. Everyone seemed to feel the urgency as we fled. They just didn't know why. For that matter, neither did I.

We'd just made it towards the door when the entire building shuddered. It wasn't like an explosion. It was more like the foundation gave a sigh. The ceiling shook, and the floors vibrated so much that I could feel it in my chest. Mom and I leaned on each other, which probably didn't help our predicament any.

"No!" Watson screamed behind us. I turned just in time to see him grab the pistol from the woman. He aimed it towards our backs. I didn't know how good of a shot he was, but just seeing the gun made my shoulder throb.

I opened my mouth to scream, but it wasn't necessary. Coe leapt forward, scooped one of the assault rifles on the ground, and turned it against Watson. He didn't even hesitate. He just pulled on the trigger and held it. I stared long enough to see Watson's expression. He was just as shocked as I was, apparently. His eyes were wide, and even from this distance I could see the blood blooming all across his chest. Coe hadn't held back at all.

I felt sick.

Coe threw the gun down, and our eyes met as we ducked into the hallway. He looked saddened, and disgusted, and I wondered if he saw the same thing reflected in my eyes. We looked away from each other and ran. Dad and Zander led the way, towards the staircase in the far corner. Mom and I held each other as we tried to rush after them, and Coe brought up the rear. But he didn't touch me, and I didn't turn around to look at him.

We made it to the stairs when the building started to crumble. I thought it was imploding, falling in on itself. The ceiling above us started to dip, and dad yelled out something unintelligible. All I knew was that the ceiling was falling, and I missed a step on the stairs and yanked both myself and my mother down the remainder of the steps, and we were so going to die.

# # #

Chloe

Something touched my cheek, prickly and uncomfortable. I thought it was grass, but I couldn't be too sure. My entire body ached, and I struggled to recall what had just happened. I tried to open my eyes, but the light above me was far too bright, and I couldn't make anything else out.

A silhouette broke into my vision, but I was still so blinded that I couldn't make out who it was. I felt cool fingers caress my cheek with a care that I didn't feel from anyone but my husband, and it wasn't him. It was far too soft, too feminine, to be him.

"It is done, little necromancer." she murmured softly. I blacked out before she could leave.

**Oh my gosh, you guys! This is the last full chapter (at a full 6,000+ words, I might add.) There WILL be an epilogue, so it's not quite so done yet. But… you know.**

**Please let me know your thoughts. They're greatly appreciated. Thanks! Peace (:**


	28. Epilogue

**fireicegirl16 – Tell me about it. It was a long time coming, that's for sure.**

**Inujuju712 – Ooh, I love intense fight scenes. And yeah, Watson's dead. Or is he? Muahaha!**

**Lucky Ariana Wolf – Honestly, I debated with it, but decided that the ending was what felt right. I'm ecstatic that you feel that way, and know exactly what you mean: sometimes, things don't end the way you expected or the way you wanted to, but it's still satisfying. I'm pleased that my story is one of those. I'm not best at summaries, as you can tell, but thank you so much for giving this a chance. And of course, I'll try to get everything explained in this epilogue. I hate loose endings has much as the next person!**

**The Darkest Powers Series belongs to Kelley Armstrong.**

_Epilogue_

_Three Weeks Later_

Whitney

"Here, Whit," dad said, taking my backpack out of my hands. Apparently, getting shot meant that I wasn't able to hold anything anymore, not even if it was with my good hand. I'd liked it for the first week or so, but now it was awful. The sling I had to wear cut into my neck, and everybody thought that I was weak. I tried to jerk the bag away from him, but that didn't do much. He just gave me a look and took it from me anyway. "Zander," he said, turning towards the front door, "get your sister's things."

Zander came around the back of our brand new used van. A _van_. Once we got away from Watson, dad decided that the crazy scientist found us way too easily, and that meant that all our fake IDs were void, our last name had to be illegally changed (Whitney Shaw didn't have the same ring to it as Whitney Souza, in my opinion) and our cars had to be traded in. He'd even traded in my car for cash, and had promised me that he'd replace it soon. Not that I could currently drive in my state. He wouldn't allow it.

"Come on," Zander complained, only half joking. His black eye had faded weeks ago, but he still had his ribs wrapped every day. Sometimes I'd catch him wincing whenever he went to pick something up, but then he'd wipe the emotion away, and continue on with his task. If anyone was hardened by our ordeal, it was definitely my little brother. "When are you going to be able to do things on your own again?"

I ignored him and brushed my hair out of my eyes, staring up at our new house. It was bigger than the one we'd had in Florida, it looked like. Simple, but nice, with a cottagey sort of feel that Uncle Simon's house had. I didn't know if it was the Georgia standard, or if it was because mom and dad bought this house literally three blocks away from Uncle Simon's. My parents, aunt, and uncle decided that the distance thing hadn't worked for us as well as we'd hoped, because it took us so long to reach our destinations in the first place. So instead my parents uprooted us and moved us to Georgia, hoping that our closeness to Uncle Simon would only reap rewards. Aunt Tori still refused to leave New York, but promised that we'd see each other more often.

"What do you think?" Mom asked. She stood by my side as close as she could, invading my personal space. Dad had tried to get everything back to normal as soon as possible, but mom started clinging on to the rest of us, like she was scared that we would get separated again. The last few weeks, she checked on me several times a night. She had a hard time sleeping, now, but refused to take any sleep aids. Dad always shrugged whenever I said something about it, but I could tell that he was worried. Mom's insomnia wasn't anything new, but she progressively got a little more irritable the longer she went without sleep. Once, she even threatened dad with a zombie squirrel, so I'd heard.

"It's nice," I forced out. And it was. A part of me was thrilled at the idea of a fresh start, but another part longed for what I was familiar with. There honestly wasn't much for me in Florida, except for my friendship with Jaime. She'd been beyond mad when I called her a day after our arrival back home. I'd just made up with her after being AWOL for a few weeks, and returning home with my arm in a sling. She wasn't happy when I informed her that we were moving, and said that we had to keep in touch. Dad was still deciding if that would be allowed, since Jaime knew me as Whitney Souza, and we all went by different names now. He'd vetoed it at first, but mom had used that super calming voice on him, and he'd conceded to reconsider.

Mom gave me a look. She could see through all of my crap, and she knew that I was mostly upset about losing the camaraderie of my best, and only, friend. "Hon, I know you're not happy about your father saying that you can't talk to Jaime anymore. He's thinking it over, but he might not change his mind. You know it's for the better. And besides, there's lots waiting for us here." She cocked an eyebrow, a tiny smile spreading over her lips.

I didn't smile back. Two weeks ago, we drove home in my car, while Uncle Simon and Coe stayed in New York for another few days. I knew that a goodbye with him would be coming, but I hadn't expected it to hurt the way it did, especially since our goodbye was more of a nod and a "see you on the other side." I always figured that we would continue talking, maybe over the phone. It hadn't taken me long to figure out that it wasn't going to be that smooth. When we woke up in the midst of rubble, we'd immediately booked it out of there. Dad knew who Coe was, and he'd seen the younger werewolf fight beside me. But by the look my father gave Coe, I would've thought that Coe had fought against us.

Coe and I hadn't talked, not much. Uncle Simon voted for us to spend the night in a hotel, because there wasn't any room for all of us in Aunt Tori's apartment. Dad had gone out of his way to keep Coe and I separated, and I didn't see him again until I slipped out of our hotel room in the middle of the night. Dad hadn't even come into the room. I'd figured that he'd still been with Uncle Simon. But when I stepped out into the hallway and headed towards the ice machine, I discovered that my father was having tense words with Coe. I had no idea what he was saying, but from the shadowed look on his face, I knew it wasn't good.

Coe didn't do much more than glance at me at breakfast. Whatever dad had said to him had worked. In the long run, I guess it had been a good thing, because that meant that we didn't have to talk about the way he shot Watson. I didn't exactly have clean hands myself, but what I had done had been more accidental, not so personal. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I still saw Watson's shocked face.

Mom still thought that a friendship with a werewolf would be good for us; he was a friend that I didn't have, and he'd be a big brother to Zander, so she thought. But dad had different ideas. He had warned me, again and again, that he was different from other werewolves, and next to none would be as calm and centered as him. Dad told me that werewolves were dangerous. He'd told me that for the millionth time as I poured milk into my cereal one breakfast, and that morning, I could tell that he meant Coe.

So no, I hadn't talked to him a long time, though I thought about him a lot. I wasn't sure what I felt towards him. I'd trusted him, I'd _kissed_ him on the cheek. But I'd seen the fury in his eyes, and the way he shot Watson. He'd looked a little regretful for it, sure, but there was the confident way he did it that made me wonder if he'd done it before. And if he hadn't, what did his psyche look like, if he could do that without suffering from nightmares or bone-crushing emotion? To be honest, it sort of scared me. Sometimes I thought that it couldn't be right, because it was _Coe_, but other times I wondered if I should've heeded my father's warning earlier on.

"Come on, then. Let's go inside. You can see your room, and if you want, we can go to Home Depot and pick out some paint colors." Mom said. We only had a vague idea of what the inside looked like, from pictures we'd printed out. My parents had bought it online without having seen it, because our disappearance from Florida was urgent. The previous owners had had earlier deals fall through, and they were already moved into a new place, but were so eager to get rid of the house that they accepted my parents' low offer.

I looked at the house for a moment longer, at its faded adobe rock and maroon brick, the cobbled driveway, the half-alive garden in the front. Mom started up without me, and I eventually scrambled to catch up. It was roomy and pretty fancy, with a large fireplace, ample kitchen, and spacious living room. "Your room is back this way," mom said. She would know, because she'd spent hours looking at the floor plans she'd printed out online. She led me to a back bedroom, which shared a Jack-and-Jill bath with Zander's. That would become a problem in the future, I was sure, but I didn't focus on that.

Instead, I stared into the room. Someone had come in before we'd got here, and had put a huge display of flowers in the very center of the room. Mom didn't look shocked. She'd probably had a hand in planning it. "I've got to go grab some other stuff. I'll be back," she said, before slipping back down the hallway. Zander was already heading back outside to bring in another round of boxes, and I could hear my dad shuffling around in the kitchen.

I nearly tripped over my bags, which Zander had haphazardly dropped by my doorway. Kicking them aside, I knelt down by the bouquet. It was huge, and must've cost a fortune. And it was made of flowers that I'd never seen before, bright oranges and deep reds and soft yellows. Pink buds and vibrant purple petals mixed in with a hundred different shades of green. They shot out of the wide vase, to the point where they were nearly eye level. Nestled in the center was one of those little sticks that usually held a single index card. This one had a card that said _Get Well Soon_, but in the _from_ space, it simply said, "Call me." I stared at it for a long moment. I knew immediately that it was from Coe. I hadn't seen much of his handwriting, but it was familiar enough. And who else would demand that I call him, softening the command with a bunch of flowers?

I could do one step better than calling him. I could go to Uncle Simon's house. Coe had said, on our drive up to New York, that he was planning on staying with Uncle Simon, working, and taking a few classes at the local community college. I was hoping that was true, because I had been worrying, for no real reason, that he was going to pack up his stuff and disappear without a trace.

I tucked the card into my pocket and headed down the hallway, narrowly avoiding colliding with Zander. I wrenched my shoulder a bit, too, sending a fiery bolt of pain up and down my arm. "Where are you going?" Zander called after me as I lumbered past. I couldn't move too quickly, else I'd move my arm around when I shouldn't, but I could at least try to speed walk.

"To run an errand," I answered as I dipped around the corner and out the front door. Mom was standing in the back of the van, pushing boxes towards dad. They both stopped to look at me as I darted past them, hesitating on the sidewalk before deciding which way to go. Dad started to call out after me, but I heard mom shush him. It sounded like they were starting a quiet disagreement, which gave me enough time to slip away.

I wasn't sure what I looked like, wearing the clothes that were usually hidden in the back of my closet, my arm hanging in a sling, and my hair a little crazy, since I'd already packed my brush before I woke up this morning, and hadn't bothered to search for it. Instead, I just scooped my hair in a ponytail, because I'd already decided that I wasn't going to see anybody who hadn't seen me looking like a monster before.

Even Coe had seen me at my worst. He'd already seen me in the morning, and he'd seen me bloodied and broken and freaking out. So it wasn't like my condition would be anything new to him. But I still managed to feel a little self-conscious as I took a left, then a right. I walked past a few streets, past a cul-de-sac, and took another left. In the distance, I could see Uncle Simon's house.

Anxiety curled up in my chest, but I pushed forward anyway. A few pieces of loose hair stuck to the back of my neck, and sweat trickled down my back. My arm stung, but it would quit hurting when I stopped moving around. I continued down the sidewalk and finally reached Uncle Simon's driveway.

Unlike before, I had to steel myself for a second. When I got the note from Coe, the only thing I could think was that I needed to come and see him for myself. But now that I'd had some time to think about it, was it really the right thing to do? There were so many things I didn't know about Coe, and our history wasn't exactly peachy. But the fact that I'd come here immediately, without a second thought, had to mean something, right?

Sucking in a breath, I stepped up to the front door and politely pressed the button once. It didn't take long for someone to answer the door. It flung open, and standing on the other side was Sophia, the source of my brother's thoughtful silence for the past few weeks. Her skin glowed brighter, and her hair was shinier. She didn't look so hopelessly young after a good scrubbing and some real relaxation. She was still incredibly thin, but she didn't look as malnourished. "Oh," she said, her smile fading a bit, but not all the way. "I thought you were Zander."

I couldn't help but smile. It seemed like Sophia was obsessed with my brother, just like he was with her. I hoped that they could work through their awkwardness, because they'd be cute together. And I liked Sophia. She reminded me a bit of me. "I'm sure he'll be around soon," I said. "Dad has him unpacking. You know, man power and all that."

Her eyes looked a little dreamy; she was probably thinking about Zander's biceps, if he had any. I barely refrained from rolling my eyes, and instead forced myself to give her an overly bright smile. "Can I come in?"

"Oh yeah, sorry," she said, stepping aside. "Coe's in his room." She added, punctuating the words with a sly smile. "I'll go tell Simon you're here."

"Thanks," I said as she hurried away. I watched her go for a little while. She was one of the prisoners Zander had freed. The others dispersed after they got Aunt Tori's throw-away cell phone number, just in case they had an emergency, but Sofia stayed. She said that she had been living on the streets when she was picked up, as had most of the others. Apparently, Watson had taken to kidnapping those whose disappearances would go unnoticed. She said that she didn't have anywhere else to stay, and no money to spend. Uncle Simon had taken her in immediately. I think it was because he liked having a family, even if it was one that he hadn't created himself.

I headed towards the hallway. Sophia had taken the bedroom that Zander and I used to use when we came down for a visit. She had left her door open. I could see that she'd left the two beds there, though one of them had been moved to the center of the room while the other had been pushed against the wall. She'd even painted the walls, laid down a rug, and moved in a few knick-knacks.

I paused outside Coe's door, wondering if he could hear me breathing, or smell me standing there. If he did, he didn't acknowledge it by opening the door. I took a deep breath and knocked, the sound hollow and loud. I waited for a few moments, shifting from one foot to the other.

Coe opened the door. He hesitated when he saw me standing there, but then he smiled. I pulled the card out of my pocket. "Call me?" I asked, thrusting the card towards him. "Really? I mean, we live three blocks away from each other, now."

"Yeah," Coe said. He sounded nervous, but he was still smiling at me. "Come on, let's go outside to talk." He shot a glance towards Sophia's open room, and I got the gist of what he was saying. I liked Sophia more and more. I could become friends with a girl that had no problem blowing things up to help strangers escape, and she was a little eavesdropper just like me.

Coe led me through the kitchen and out into the backyard. Uncle Simon had a small covered patio, which held an ancient bench and a half-dead plant. I sat down on the edge of the patio, staring down at the pebbles Uncle Simon had put in instead of grass – xeriscaping, he called it. The plants, which would be big and bright in the spring, but were sort of dull this time of year, took up the rest of the backyard.

"So," I said after he sat down next to me. His knee knocked into mine for a second, but then he pulled away. A part of me ached at that. I _wanted_ him to want to sit next to me. "What did you want to talk about?"

Coe gave a heavy sigh. "This was going to be easier over the phone. That's why I wanted you to call me."

I couldn't help but wrap my one good arm around myself. That didn't sound so good. Dad always said that things were better said in person. Anything that Coe wanted to say over the phone meant that he didn't want to see my expression when he said them. My mind only provided negative thoughts. "Well, too bad." I answered a little more gruffly than I meant to, but it was supposed to hide the hurt that sat thick in my throat. "You'll have to tell it to my face."

Coe glanced at me, then at the plant next to him. "I just… I don't know what you want to do, or what you think, or what you expect of me."

I blinked a few times, because I hadn't really expected that. "What?" I blurted. "What's that supposed to mean? I thought you were going to tell me that you didn't even want to acknowledge me anymore." I admitted in a rush. "So what are you saying?"

"What are _you_ saying?" He asked, his eyebrows drawn together. We stared at each other, then burst into peals of nervous laughter. Coe cleared his throat. "Okay, well, I didn't know what you wanted to do about… us. I mean, I don't want to assume anything. And I didn't know what your dad said to you."

"To me?" I echoed. "He tells me that werewolves are dangerous all the time. But he seems to forget that he's a superpowered werewolf, and he turned out fine." I told him. "Why? What did he say to you?" Coe didn't answer. I snorted to myself. "He told you to stay away, didn't he?" I cursed at my father under my breath. He was so overprotective that he smothered me. I'd clearly done okay without him around to micromanage my life.

"He has a point," Coe offered. "You don't know what to expect from me."

"Whatever," I replied. I nudged him hard in the shoulder, which jostled my arm, but I didn't care. "He can't tell me who I'm allowed to be… friends with." I hesitated on the word _friends_, because I had the feeling that I wanted to maybe be more than friends with Coe. "In case he can't remember," I added with bravado, "I pretty much saved his life."

Coe cracked a grin at that. "I owe your dad." He said. "He helped me get away from the Pack, helped me find a place here at Simon's. I can't betray him like that."

"So you're just going to betray me?" I asked, my voice going an octave higher. I didn't have to feign hurt for that one. I didn't want someone I cared about to choose my father over me.

"I don't _want_ to," Coe said quickly, "but I might have to."

"We don't _have_ to do anything." I told him, focusing on the ground, away from him. I felt like the past few weeks were decided for me, and I hated it. "We don't. I could've just said that my parents' disappearance didn't bother me. I didn't have to drive up here, and I didn't have to drive up to New York. I didn't have to jump into an exploding building, and I didn't have to get shot. But I did because I wanted to. Not the shot part, I mean," I faltered, "but it was a consequence. I chose to follow Uncle Simon up to New York, and I chose to take part in getting my parents out of there. If I'm old enough to risk my life, I'm old enough to make these types of decisions."

"Whitney," Coe said, his voice low, a bit pained. I didn't look up, because my eyes were watering, and I wasn't about to cry in front of him. This whole thing felt like a breakup, even though we'd never been dating. This was our first time to even talk about this. "Whitney, look up at me."

When I didn't, he reached over and rested his hand on my knee. Then he moved, and his fingers softly brushed over my cheek, gently taking a hold of my chin. He turned me to face him, and his eyes, a million brilliant shades of blue, were bright. "Whitney Souza," he murmured, "I think I might love you."

I was still smiling when he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against mine. They were soft and warm, and it felt like they fit together just right. _We_ fit together just right. I wasn't really sure if what I felt for him was love, but it was strong. It didn't take long for me to trust him, to want him nearby. And I would feel it even if my father didn't approve.

I decided in that moment, as his hand slid from my chin to my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, that this was my life. And it wasn't just made up of _have-to's,_ like I always thought it was, but it was also made up of _want-to's_. And I wanted nothing more than to stay here, with Coe. Because he was a part of home, a place where I _finally_ felt safe.

**Isn't this exciting? Yet another fanfiction finished. I feel so accomplished. As always, please excuse grammatical or spelling errors in any of the chapters. I usually try to skim them over, but I don't always catch them all. Don't let them ruin your reading experience.**

**I wanted to thank you all for taking the time to read and review this. I really wouldn't continue if it wasn't for you guys cheering me on. So thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. Please leave me a review, because you know how much I love them. If you have any answers that you would like answered, please PM me. I'll PM you if you make a review that I would like to reply to.**

**I have several other Darkest Powers Fanfictions that I would absolutely love for you to read:**

_**After the End**_**: This fanfic is about Chloe and the gang, just weeks after the end of The Reckoning. The group finds themselves at a safe house in Texas, which is full of mysteries – not only of the people that work there, but also of the girl that died there.**

_**The Hidden Truth:**_** This is a planned novella-length fanfic, featuring a girl named Emma (who was previously named Mina, before I found out there was a Mina in the series. Whoops.) who has telekinetic abilities. When a strange group of teenagers show up asking for her, she discovers that they have secrets about her, and she has to decide what she's going to do in the face of danger.**

_**The Happiest Day**_**: This is a one-shot for Chlerek friends, featuring Chloe and Derek's wedding day.**

**Thank you all so much. Peace (:**


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